Horseshoes and Hand Grenades
by Vroomian
Summary: You don't care about sports, and you didn't sign up for this nonsense. Fem!Oc/Momoi
1. I

Fact: Everyone dies.

You are not the exception.

* * *

You're born again next to the house of a fictional character and you're expected to be friends with him, because your mothers are friends and your fathers are friends and you were born within a week of each other. His name is Kise Ryouta and he is _annoying_. He cries at the slightest sound. You were enjoying your non existence and then this came along, and you had to deal with screaming children?

You are not pleased with this reality shift and you make this known. Your parents don't get much sleep in the first few months.

The new you is plain. Black hair, dark eyes, typical Japanese features. You give your reflection one look over, deem it suitable and forget about it.

Kise Ryouta has eyes like molten gold and his mother's hair and the attachment issues of an abandoned puppy. He trails after you all the first days of kindergarten, clutching your weird smock thing. You don't actually care because at least he's not crying about something. Until the girls in your class start falling over themselves to play with him. They jostle you out of the group, leaving an overwhelmed looking Kise in the middle of it.

He looks at you, pleading with his pretty eyes.

Yeah, no.

You leave him there with a disinterested glance. If he wanted out, he was going to have to do it himself.

* * *

Before you died, life was normal.

Birth, school, college. You worked the same boring desk job until you died. All your tragedies were small, and equaled by joys. Passion was a foreign word. You existed, and that was enough. Coasting along like a feather on the breeze. Nothing touched you.

You receive a camera for your sixth birthday from one of your many aunts. It's bright pink and plastic and obviously for kids - but it works. It has film.

You fall in love the first time you look through the lens. The first time you develop a photo. The first time you capture an emotion in two dimensions. It's like seeing in color after a lifetime of grey.

You love the click of the shutter. Effortlessly finding beauty in the mundane, plays of light and shadow, that perfect moment where something deeper than words flits like a bird and you can only capture it if you have the skill, if you're lucky enough, if only you dare, if only you _look_.

The world is worth paying attention to, for the first time.

With your apathy melting away, it begins to dawn on your parents: you are not _smart_. You're a _genius_. Even beyond the "twenty-seven year old mind" in the body, things that would've taken months to learn in your old body take only days or hours. The only one in your class who can keep up most of the time is Kise. You're including your teacher. Everything is easier.

Your new mom and dad want a doctor, a lawyer, a politician. They speak of bright futures and special education. You're smart and they know that. Cram schools, tutors, grades, prestige.

They mean well.

Unfortunately for them, you already _have_ a plan.

You're going to be a photographer.

It's like a fire has been lit on the inside of you. You hope it never goes out; you were so _cold_ before.

* * *

You win first prize in an annual competition before your seventh birthday.

Improving your skills is your one passion, and you pour everything into it. Classes about light and framing, rock climbing to get into hard to reach areas, mechanics for repair, setting up a blog so you can share your work and receive critiques.

Time flies by. You graduate from Kindergarten along with Kise. The shelf your parents keep is filling up with trophies and ribbons and certificates. If it makes them happy, that's fine. They're nice, but you don't need them. The pictures themselves are their own reward.

In the evenings after elementary school is over, Kise walks home with you, blabbering about his day. He still clings, but you tolerate it more now. You live next door to each other. He follows you inside when his sisters are gone and his parents are busy.

"I wish I knew what I wanted to do," Kise says, nine years old and filled with worldly ennui, clutching a stuffed animal to his chest. You don't know where he got it. You don't _own_ any stuffed animals. He's joined three clubs this month, and quit them just as quickly. "You're so lucky, Hanacchi." There's a trace of real frustration to his voice.

You glance at the bag spilled over your floor, each paper a halo of 100 marks, so dusted in gold stars it was it's own constellation.

Your own work is piled, untouched, somewhere under magazine offering a zoom lens that you really, really want.

Homework is boring.

"Don't mess up my bed," You say, going back to the kiddie camera. You can probably salvage something worth using if you take it apart.

He laughs. "So mean!"

* * *

Kise slams the door to your bedroom behind him, clothes rumpled and eyes wild. "I don't understand girls."

You catch a glimpse of him and grab for your camera. "Hold that pose," you say.

You bring up the camera and Kise, trained by now, freezes and his face slips into a slight smile and he looks through his lashes into the your lens, and with a click you capture a slice of time, forever.

Kise is beautiful. This is an empirical fact. The camera loves him and he loves it right back. Put him in the light and he _glows_ , becomes a conduit, automatically the brightest thing in the room. He attracts eyes and hearts like moths circling a flame.

He's your favorite subject.

"What about girls?" You say, and bring the camera down. You know that it's probably insipid. It always is, with Kise. You listen anyway.

Friendship is about compromises.

He unfreezes, and lets his bag spill onto the floor _again_. Papers went everywhere. "Seriously, they're _scary_. They swarmed me outside the gates. I didn't think I'd survive!"

Oh, his 'fanclub'.

"Tell them to get lost." You say, losing interest. Kise's got a way of making problems so much then bigger then they need to be. He had sparkles and cynicism where everyone else had common sense.

He flops onto your bed again. "I'd hurt their feelings. They cry and then I have to deal with them, and I get treated like the bad guy."

"So?"

"That's mean, Hanacchi."

"Get a girlfriend then. A second target should distract them long enough to get out of the way." You kick him in the side. "Pick up your bag. I'm not your mother and I'm not cleaning up after you."

Kise didn't move. He stared up at the ceiling. "...Would that work? A girlfriend?"

"It's worth a try."

In hindsight, you should have thought more about the words coming out of your mouth. No, you forgot one crucial thing.

Kise has no common sense.

* * *

You regret everything.

" _Hell_ no." You say, packing as much disdain as you could into the words. Your textbook lays open before you, forgotten. Your grades were slipping a little too close to 'flunk' for your mother's taste.

So. At least pretending to study. In reality, you're failing to fix a camera. After going through school one time already, you know that none of the homework is important. It's hard to muster any interest in school.

"Wow, actual emotion. I mean -please, Hanacchi! You're my only hope! Anyone else would get scared off by the fan-girls or try to kiss me! _Please be my fake girlfriend_." Kise begged from dogeza.

You stare makes plain what you think about his reasons. "No way. Too much of a pain."

"It was your idea!"

"Yeah, but that was when it didn't involve me."

"Hanacchi is so cold." He whined, clinging to your leg.

You shrug and turn back to your poor battered camera. It's go a cracked lense and you think, a little sad, that it's going to be done pretty soon. This one was a beauty, real craftsmanship. Your dad would be reluctant to pay for a new one, with the grades you've been bringing in. Which is why you're 'studying' in the first place.

Kise settles himself over your shoulder. "I can buy you a new camera."

You pause.

Like a shark after blood, Kise is on the hesitation. "Please, Hanacchi, you won't have to do anything. Just ignore whatever anyone tells you. Nothing has to change - I already spend so much time with you, nobody will expect anything else."

You glance at the broken camera with a resentful scowl. Ugh. "Fine," you say, already resigned to the stupidity that would ensue.

Kise let out a whoop and pumped his hand into the air. "You're the best, Hanacchi!"

"Whatever. It's your wallet's funeral, not mine."

"...I don't like how you said that. Hanacchi? Hanacchi, what did you mean by that- why are you _smiling_ _like that_. Hanacchi!"

* * *

 ** _an: this was not what i meant to write_**

 ** _edited 2/1/2017_**


	2. II

**,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

"You two are… close today." One of Kisses admirers said, glancing at Kise's arm around your shoulders. You knew her name, but you forgot it immediately.

"We _are_ dating." Kise said, careless as a politician dropping a bomb.

It had the _effect_ of a bomb going off. A horrified silence, people staring, sheer incomprehension - and then the shock-wave hits. People started shouting and the girl's from Kise fan club - all of them basically - shrieking and crying. The girl in front of you looked like she's been clubbed over the head and told her dog died at the same time. Dazed and devastated.

"You're dating." She said like a woman reaching for safety and being denied at the last minute. "You and her. _Her_!"

"I knew it!" Someone shouted.

Kise laughed and it wasn't a happy sound. "Yeah, her! You got a problem with that?"

You roll your eyes and put in your headphones, jack the volume all the way up and proceed to ignore the entire class until the teacher arrived to take care of it.

When the rumor of the two of you dating spreads through the school, it lasts for far too long for your taste - which is to say for longer than the five minuets you found it noteworthy.

Dating Kise is the exact same thing as not dating him was; the only change is you hold hands sometimes and refer to each other by first names, which Kise already did and your formerly american soul doesn't care about.

He's still clingy. You still hang out for hours without saying anything or playing whatever sport Kise's doing. You learn a lot more about baseball and archery and soccer or whatever than you wanted to know. Your parents are weirdly unsurprised.

Honestly, the only thing that really annoyed you about the arrangement are the fanclub.

You knew about their existence, the same way you're aware of one of your parents annoying friends. Distant but not really your problem.

Unfortunately, Kise has _made_ them your problem.

You said to give them a second target - and you were absolutely right.

You find tacks in your shoes. Funerary Flowers on your desk. Your bag upended in the fountain you didn't even know the school had.

Blank faced you look at the remains of book report you finished yesterday, floating forlorn on top of the water. It took about ten minutes, sure, but you're kinda pissed off that you have to spend more time redoing it.

At least your camera is fine. You don't bring your good one to school, but you do keep a little digital one hanging around your neck. You study the terrain and the fountain again. Your fingers itch.

Maybe a higher point of view shot?

You're already halfway down the tree, pictures taken, when Kise finds you. It's not a surprise - the two of you walk together at night and it's about an hour past that time.

He looks up at you. "Climbing trees again? One of these days you're going to fall and your mom is going to blame me."

"Not my problem," you say with a shrug. You drop the last five feet and land in a crouch.

He rolls his eyes. "What caught your interest now?"

You walk to the fountain and fish out one of the textbooks. Math, ew. Temptation to drop it back in stifled, you lay it on the side of the fountain.

"Whoa. Did you drop your bag in the fountain?"

" _I_ didn't, no."

Kise wasn't stupid. His mouth went flat and hard. "The fanclub, Hannacchi?"

You pause in taking off your shoes and socks to give him a look. The fanclub is always going on about how sensitive and kind he is - and they must be blind. Kise is cold, Kise is proud, and Kise doesn't care about anyone outside his family or yours. You would rather date a live alligator for real than him.

Fortunately, your skin is thick and you know you're not a nice person. It's why you get along so well. "Don't ask stupid questions." You say and step into the water with a hiss. It's march and the water is colder than ice. Wading out to your bag, you collect stuff as you go.

Kise lets out a breath and you hear a rustle of cloth and then a splash of water.

You glance over your shoulder to see him bent over and grabbing a book from the water. He wades over the you and hands it over. History. You put it next to the math book. "Thanks."

Kise doesn't apologize, because he knows you, knows how you think. Knows enough to see that this is expected and you don't blame

him for their actions. "How long has this been going on?"

"A week or so." This is the first sign of escalation, the first something that's more of a threat than an annoyance. Finally. You were going to be fine. It would take more than this to make a scratch on you.

"What do you want to do?"

You tap the camera around your neck. "Already done. You are shocked and appalled by their actions, by the way. Bullies are the scum of the earth and you hate them more than anything." That would hurt them more than anything.

Setting up a shot of them taking your bag out of it's desk. Following the girls here, getting shots of all their faces, finding names and classes - it was easy. Tomorrow their photos would be plastered around the school, along with the pictures showing them throwing your bag in the water. With Kise backing it up, there wouldn't be a single person who didn't believe. You recorded the whole thing just to be safe.

 _Don't get mad._

 _Get even._

You will not die with regrets. Not again.

"Of course," Kise said.

You both shared a smile. It wasn't a nice one.

The pictures go up around school, and the bullying stops. The school is buzzing with the question: who are the girls in the pictures? Their faces are never quite in view - in those photos.

Except for the ones that each of those girls found in their lockers. _Those_ are perfectly clear.

Of course that's on purpose. What are you, an amateur?

It's not the end, of course.

You're not surprised when the group of girls attempt to corner you in the library alone, because Kise is over with the baseball club. You rest your head in your hands. "Can I help you?"

You recognize the girl from the photos. The ringleader Makoto something or other, daughter of some big shot lawyer. She goes red, and her face twists in a sneer that would be intimidating on someone who wasn't twelve and stick thin. "You're the one who spread those photos around! Because of you Kise-kun thinks - thinks I'm some sort of bully.'

Kise? He'd laugh. "You _are_ a bully."

The girls behind Makoto shift. You weren't following the script of unpopular girl being ganged up on. Logic wasn't supposed to make an appearance. You know what you looked like - delicate, tiny, younger - you were supposed to shy away from the popular girl, cringing in meek embarrassment over your supposed _unworthiness_.

"What does he see in you?" The words looked like they tore themselves out of her mouth. She went even redder - but his eyes were suspiciously shiny. "Huh? What's so great about some camera carrying freak? I tried to ask him out and he brushes me off! What am I doing wrong? _Why you?_ I spend so much time on my hair and makeup - and he won't even look at me. What makes you so special?" Her tears began to fall for real and the lackeys made soothing noises and glared at you like you were the bad guy.

If this was a manga, you'd say some moving words. Something about the power of love and friendship, about looking on the inside for kindness. You'd bond over a shared love rivalry make friends out of a rival and she'd come away with a better outlook on life and everyone would win.

This isn't a manga anymore and you don't _care_.

You don't forget and you don't forgive, and you don't want her as a friend. It's not your job to make this spoiled brat feel better about herself. Kise is trouble enough for three people. You give her a bored look. "Do I look like your mother? Solve your own problems."

She flinched.

One of the lackeys bristles. "You don't have to be such a bitch! Why -"

"Did you know," You say soft as silk. "That destruction of property is a crime? Like, say, a school bag. Very interesting reading." You tap the book. It's in english and you see them make the connection. "My mother is a lawyer; a pretty good one. Pressing charges would be - well, the school wouldn't like it. They'd want to clear it up."

If you wanted you could get them expelled.

 _I'm not going to ruin your lives, but I could._

Who wants to be associated with a bully? Maybe it would've bothered you once, but time is short and you only have a few decades until you die. You decided long ago to live as you wished, no matter how selfish it made you.

"What do you want?" One of the girls says.

"Go. _Away_. You have no opinion on me. Leave Kise alone, because he's not interested in you." You say.

Makoto swallows and nods. "O-okay."

They leave, and you return to your book - it's a fascinating look at some photography techniques that you're going to have to try. You read on, already forgetting that entire conversation.

 **,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

They don't try to bully you again. Your life returns to peaceful and the girls in class shoot you frightened looks sometimes. Rumor spreads about Kise's terrifying girlfriend.

His fanclub keeps their distance.

Kise and you high-five.

Mission accomplished.

 **,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

One day during spring break, The eldest of Kise's' sisters comes back from america to visit. Kasumi Kise was a model turned actress. You've seen her movies and you're not surprised. She's _good_.

Kise bounces on his heels. It's been more than a year since she was last home, even though she calls and skypes as much as she can.

You can't keep the smile off your face. You and Kise share an excited look.

Kasumi is a _pleasure_ to photograph - as good as Kise! You missed having the three Kise siblings together. When you were little, they would humor you by dressing up and putting on pretend photo-shoots, letting their weird neighbor girl boss them around with good humor. Nori, kise's other sister, was working under your mother at her firm, so it wouldn't be the perfect setup, but it was still good.

Photographs with the two of them are always popular.

At the airport, Kasumi laughs and pulls you and Kise into a hug. "Hana, Ryouta! I missed you so much. How are things at school? How many competitions have you won?"

Auntie - Kise's mother - clears her amused throat. "The two of them have finally started dating for real."

Kasumi squealed and twirled around, dragging you and Kise within a cloud of sweet perfume.

You laugh, a feeling like champagne fizzing inside of you when you finally break apart. Kise is red cheeked and grinning. "Kasu-nee, it's good have you back. Smile!"

Kasumi is how you and Kise get your first modeling job.

Kasumi sighed happily and collapsed on the floor, her long blonde hair spilling out like molten gold across the floor. "Honestly, America is amazing, but it's nice to be home again."

You just shrugged, not looking up from your magazine Kasumi brought for you. It's in English, but that wasn't much of a problem. You liked to keep yourself sharp with it.

"Can you read that?" Kise asked with a perplexed look on his face.

You shrug again. "English is easy." Nothing makes any grammatical sense and every rule is more like a guideline then a rule.

"Eh, you can read English, Hana-chan?" Kise's mother claps her hands. "As expected of our little prodigy."

Neither of them were in the country right now - Mom was overseas dealing with a shipment complication, and dad was somewhere over in switzerland going over one contract or another. After you entered elementary they started taking longer trips - never more than a few days. You stayed over with the Kises when that happened. It was like growing up with two sets of parents, honestly. Kise and his sisters stayed over at your house more than once when their own parents wanted a break.

So you don't brush off Auntie. Instead you give her one of your rare, sincere smiles. She loves you, second only to your own parents. Maybe even equally. Her fridge has some of your earliest work on it.

The oven alarm goes off and Auntie jumps up and heads for the kitchen. "That's the cake! Would you help me out with the dishes, dear?"

KIse's father rolls his eyes and puts down his own book. "Of course, my love."

She playfully pushes him, but her cheeks go red.

You and Kise look at each other with grossed out looks. Grownups being lovey dovey, ew.

"Did you take these, Hana?"

You look up to find Kasumi studying the wall of photos. It's the same one that your parents had - autie demanded copies. They put up the ones that you won the competitions with; there were about twenty or thirty now. More than half of them featured Kise. The wall at your house has all the ribbons displayed as well. "Yeah. Why?"

She tapped her finger on her full lips. "They're really good."

Well… yes. "I _am_ good." You say.

That woke her up. She scuffed your hair with a laugh. "And so humble, too!"

Kise laughed. "Hanacchi has never been humble."

"Shut up, I'm exactly as humble as I need to be." You don't see the point in humility. You know your strengths, just like you know your weaknesses. None of it is news to you.

Kasumi smiled again. "I think there's someone that I want you to meet."

 **,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

Kasumi's friend is a woman - pretty, beauty mark below her eye, maybe seventeen- clasps your hands to her bosom. "Hello, my name is Junko Shimada, I'm a huge fan!" Her grey eyes are nearly sparkling.

You don't know what to do with that. You have fans? It seemed... odd. For once in your life you have no idea what to say. You glance at Kise. He shrugs. The both of you turn to look at Kasumi at the same time.

She grins at you. "Junko-chan is a model, and she wants to do a shoot with the both of you! I already okayed it with the manager of a magazine I know. The theme is sexy royalty."

You blink, and turn back to look at the woman again, looking through that imaginary else in your head. "A down angle shot, maybe." You say under your breath. Circling around her, you bring your hands up in a frame. The best angle would be - you stop and crouch a bit. She's looking over her shoulder at you and the light is behind, giving her the look of a crown. "Hold that." You say.

Junko freezes. You snap the picture and a few more to make sure.

You offer the camera to Kasumi. "Like this?"

She flips through the pictures and laughs. "Exactly what I was going for, thank you. You're so reliable." She ruffles your hair again. "Here, Junko-chan, what do you think?"

Junko gasped, her hands going to her face. "That- that's beautiful. How - I'm not even made up that well - and it took her like four seconds- I look amazing, Kasumi-chan!"

Kise looks at you and you shrug. You're not really sure what she's freaking out about. It wasn't that good a photo, but good enough for a concept.

Kasumi laughed. "I told you, my little sister is very, very good. I think that the magazine is going to be very pleased with the results of the actual shoot."

Junko clasped the camera to her chest with a happy grin.

 **,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

 **an: Kise and Hana theme song: Faith by Stevie Wonder ft. Ariana Grande (except not romantic)**


	3. III

III

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Elementary rushes past like the wind in a monsoon. Your shelves grow heavy with ribbons and trophies and your father sets up a bank account to save the money you and Kise make. So long as there's enough to buy the equipment you want and fresh film, you don't care. He might have set one up for Kise too. You stopped listening.

You both apply to Teikou, because it's your father's alma mater. Your name is up on the board when they post the results. Kise's as well. No one is surprised, least of all you.

"We're not in the same class." Ryouta says, looking up at the wall of names like it personally offended him. People part around him and eyes follow his sunshine hair, his easy movement.

You barely notice it anymore. "For once."

He pouts. "Can't you sound at least a little sad about it?"

You roll your eyes. "It'll be a pain trying to find a partner. We'll see each other at home."

Teikou was a bit too far to commute from your houses, so your parents thought about it and finally rented out a small apartment for you to share with Kise. They all agreed that it'd be good practice for when the two of you entered university. It honestly wasn't different from living at home, except the two of you had to make your own food and do your own chores. You were always with Kise anyway.

Not that there hasn't been some issues. Kise is a slob. You're not.

You win, because you're a heartless bastard and you know where he sleeps.

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Teikou is interesting for roughly three seconds. The first day assemble comes up quick. The grounds are lush with flowers in neatly kept rows, just like the students. High class. Beautiful, but severe. You have a steady job the _second_ you graduate. You make more money a month then most salarymen. You've already got seven more jobs lined up.

You and Kise share a glance. He's just as bored as you are, if not more because he doesn't have the distraction of people watching. Middle school.

"Got a club picked out?" You ask, when the speech is over. "I'm going for school newspaper." School rules say that students must join one extracurricular activity, even if it's just the go home club. Plus your mother wanted it. She wants you to branch out, make _friends_ .

You're... skeptical. Kise's family doesn't count. You were born into that.

No one in elementary would hang out with you because of the Bullying incident.

(Also, they were pre-teens. No thank you.)

You're not great with people.

Kise makes a face. "I might try one of the sports clubs again. Maybe judo. There might be _something_ interesting at Teikou." His voice is supremely doubtful.

You get it.

You sigh and lean against him, in a rare show of comfort. Kise's been getting colder and more cynical with each easy victory. You can't say you don't get where he's coming from. This body masters things almost instantly - so easy it just seems _cheap_ . You never have to work at anything anymore.

"You'll find something." You tell him.

He rests his head on yours. "Really?"

"Really really." You don't have to fake certainty. You know . "It might take a while, but something will come up."

He laughs and jaws drop all around you. "If Hanacchi says it, it must be true."

You let him hook his arm around you. "Don't you forget it." you say with a sniff.

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Three weeks later you finally stop dragging your feet. The newspaper club room is bigger than you thought it would be. A low grade chatter hangs in the air. You hand your application to a girl with glasses and purple-black hair. You don't catch her name, too busy following the curve of her white neck. You almost go for your camera right there.

No. Bad. Don't photograph people without their permission.

She leads you to one of the desks piled high with papers. It looks more like the desk of a ceo, than a middle school newspaper. The living personification of the word _tired_ sits at the desk, body drooping, black circles under his eyes, black hair pulled back into a careless bun.

"Got a newbie, Captain." Glasses girl says cheerfully and hands over your application, ignoring his pitiful groan ruthlessly.

"Wonderful. Great. Perfect." He rubs his eyes, glances at the application. "Ryukawa-chan, right? My name is Fujiwara Tadao. I'm the captain and main editor of the Teikou Times. Glad to have you. What are you best with?"

You make a mental note to never _ever_ accept captaincy. You pull out the camera from your bag. "Photography."

He looks at the camera and whistles. "That's some serious hardware. You know how to use that thing?"

You give a bored look. "Some."

"Thank god. A newbie I don't have to babysit, you're officially my favorite." And under his sarcastic apathy he does seem genuinely relieved. He waves across the room. "Oi, Shimada! Got you a catch!"

A girl breaks off from a group and delicately picks her way over. Her warm brown eyes look you up and down; She gives you a small smile and a bow, her black hair in a thick braid. "A pleasure to meet you. My name is Shimada Ai. I'm a reporter in my third year."

You bow slightly. "Ryukawa Hana. Photographer."

"The two of you are assigned to the basketball club." Fujiwara breaks in.

Shimada whirls, all demureness gone. " _What_? I had them last year! Sensei said that someone else had to do it- "

"I know what he said, but you're our most experienced and you already know about them. It has to be you, until we can find someone else. The last two just quit." He snaps. "I don't like it either, but - "

"You two are scaring the newbie." The purple haired girl sing-songed while examining her manicured nails.

You tilt your head. "Is there something wrong with the basketball club?"

They all share a glance. Fujiwara hesitates. "The basketball club can be a little... intense. The captain - Nijimura - has a bit of a temper."

Purple hair laughs. "That's one polite way to say _obsessed_ . He doesn't like anyone getting in the way of his teams training, and he really doesn't like reporters of any kind."

"Stop trying to scare her, Kimi." Fujiwara says. "Shimada, at least try and interview the captain this time."

"Yay. I make no promises." That was the least enthusiastic sound you've ever heard.

"Just go, already. Get out of my hair." He mustered up a smile for you that looked painful. "Don't worry about it, Ryukawa. He's not really a bully and he wouldn't pick on a first year."

Kimi laughed. "Just try not to flinch or he might attack without thinking."

You nod and turn to follow Shimada.

 _Nijimura._

Interesting. Your second cannon character.

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Nijimura will be your third, apparently. Shimada went out to get the adviser of the club with a grim set to her mouth.

"Aka-chin, there's an elementary school student in the gym. Get rid of it."

You look up and up and _up_ into the apathetic eyes of Murasakibara. It can't be anyone else. He's purple and enormous. You hear him clearly, even over the squeak of countless sneakers on the gym floor.

The redhead - _Akashi Seijirou_ \- next to him sighed. "Atsushi, please be polite."

Nijimura is dropping down the list.

"If your want to go, I'm down for that." You say, meeting the giants purple eyes without flinching, hands tucked into their opposite side sleeves.

The redhead looks confused. "I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you correctly."

"I'd crush you." Murasakibara says, sounding bored.

You shrug. "You could try."

His apathetic eyes get darker and an annoyed scowl falls over his face.

"Atsushi, do not fight the girl less than half your size." Akashi says. "Why don't you go have a snack? I have some pocky in my bag. Strawberry flavored."

Tension slowly drains from Murasakibara's body, until he's nothing more than a walking slump. "I'm hungry." He pats his stomach and wanders off.

Akashi tucks a basketball under his arm. His shirt is sweaty and you wrinkle your nose. "How can I help you?"

You glance pointedly down at the camera hung around your neck, then give him a very bored look. "Ryukawa Hanako . Photographer for the school newspaper. First year. Waiting for one of my sempai's to talk to your captain."

Akashi sighed. "Akashi Seijuro, first year. Vice captain of the basketball club. Nice to meet you, Ryukawa-san. Nijimura-san did mention something about the journalism club."

The two of you are surrounded by a little bubble of strained silence. You're not sure how to proceed and from the look on his face, neither is he.

How do conversations _work_? You don't know and you can't even blame it on being reincarnated. It's the one thing that followed you from your last life. You adjust the focus on your camera. Something is bothering you about the gym. It wasn't so much a feeling as an absence of a feeling.

As a photographer you rely on your ability to notice the people around you. If you don't pay attention, how can you catch the perfect moment, and your gut is telling you you're missing something? You ignore Akashi and bring the camera up to your eye.

 _There._

Kuroko Tetsuya, main character and invisible man, didn't look like much. His hair was blue, sure, but it wasn't the electric blue of the manga. Instead it was greyer, duller. Lost in between his scores of darker teammates. His skin was white, washed out to grey. You squint you eyes to see him clearly. It was like you were looking through glass into water, like he should be transparent.

Kuroko seems to be fading into focus. The sun, shining through a window behind him, managed to just clip his shoulder, his face, a bit of his eyes. He was looking at something on the outside of the picture. A shoulder of one of his teammates. The hard lights of the gym. the basketball tucked under his arms.

He was a living silhouette.

Your camera flash goes off.

You lower your camera and lose sight of Kuroko. A little curl of satisfaction unfurls inside you. This is your favorite part. the knowledge that, right here in your hands, you had held a little moment of time. You grasped a grain of sand from the hourglass franticly slipping away, here, now. Skill and luck. A moment that would have passed without notice.

"Breaking the rules already?" A very unamused voice asked. "Why am I not surprised."

"Be quiet, Nijimura." Shimada snapped. Than she looked at you and smiled. "Sorry for leaving you alone like that. I hope that no one tried to bother you."

You broke from your world and looked up to meet the eyes of a tall black haired third year wearing soft gray workout clothes. "Not really." You say. You didn't ask for permission first. Not that it would have stopped you from doing it anyway.

Some things are more important.

"I don't believe it," Nijimura says with a role of his eyes. "None of my teammates have the sense god gave a puppy. Someone must have done something."

You shrug again. You feel like you've been doing that a lot lately.

"May I see your camera?" Akashi cut in.

You glance at him and hand it over reluctantly. If he broke it, you'd get a better one out of the hush money. Blackmail is a wonderful thing. You watch the redhead flip through the photos.

His eyebrows go higher and higher. "You are quite talented, Ryokawa-san."

You already know that.

"Let me see that," Nijimura says.

Akashi tips the camera obligingly, letting his captain look over his shoulder.

The captain whistled, stern look sliding off his face. "Shit, you're not kidding."

He smiles. "Nijimura-san, I think you should let them. It's a good way of getting club funds and good publicity. Everyone wins."

The captain sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It's not like I have a choice. The teachers made it clear that everyone has to cooperate with the Journalism club, so they can present the information to parents. Oi, Haizaki, did I say you could stop? Keep up or I'm adding laps to your tally." He snapped the last part over his shoulder. How'd he even see that? Does he have eyes in the back of his head?

The grey haired boy picks up his heels.

"I swear that kid will be the death of me. We need more managers." Nijimura sighed.

Akashi nodded. " _Competent_ ones. Momoi-san is doing what she can, but she's only one person." Akashi looked at you. "I don't suppose - "

"No. I'm not one of nature's managers." You say, cutting that off at the start. Taking care of an ungrateful group of teenage boys was not your idea of a good time. If you had to stay in their vicinity for longer than a half an hour it would end in murder.

And then you'd have to worry about hiding the bodies.

You'd just rather _not_ .

"Stop trying to poach my first years, Nijimura." Shimada says.

He held up his hands. "I didn't say anything."

Akashi looked faintly disappointed. "That's too bad. We always have a position open if you change your mind. Poor Momoi is always so overwhelmed with testosterone. She'd welcome another girl with open arms."

You snort. Unlikely.

The interview goes off without a hitch.

Fujiwara's flabbergasted face almost makes the whole thing worthwhile.

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

After the interview, walking home with Kise is a breath of fresh air. For a moment you contemplate telling him about the basketball club adventure. No. Let him find his motivation on his own. He won't appreciate having his passions pushed on him.

You have a lot in common.

After the two of you take your baths sit at the table for some sort of food. It plain rice and a bit of seasoning tonight. you're feeling strangely wrung out from making friends today. Your mother would be aghast. Kise is quiet. You don't try to make him talk. It's obvious that he's thinking about something.

Kise speaks up in the middle of dinner. "Hannacchi, I think I want to start dating. For real."

You pause and set the chopsticks down. Your hair hangs sticks to your neck, still wet. "I'm guessing you don't mean me."

You _hope_ he doesn't mean you. You love Kise, but he's your brother, and you might actually vomit if he's in love with you.

He makes a face like he's smelled something foul. "Oh, god no. I'd rather date a shark, it'd be less scary. I mean - thirteen's old enough to date right? I won't have to deal with as many fangirls. I just - "

Hmm. His face was shuttered. You know anyway.

Kise wants, more then anything else, is _passion_ . He wants what you have, and he always has. A love that consumes his waking hours, an obsession that comes before all else. It's been an unspoken issue between you the second you picked up a camera. He wants a love and a challenge.

You remember the grey world. You wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy.

If kise wants out, you'll help him. You don't know if he'll find it in basketball or in another person. "I don't know about that. You are you, after all."

Kise shrugged. That was true. His fanbase had only grown since he became a model and there were all sorts of crazies out there. "Curse this beautiful face." He said, sounding bored.

"Poor you," You agree. "Well, I'll miss your wallet, but you have my blessings. Go forth and date." You hope he finds what he's looking for. There's still something that he's not telling you, but it's not like you don't have your own secrets.

He rolls his eyes. "Hanacchi is so kind."

You hear the unspoken thank you and nudge him with your shoulder.

You're welcome.

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,


	4. IV

**Chapter 4**

 **,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

The year passes. Working with the newspaper club is easy. They don't try to be your friend. You know how to handle a camera; you do your job and you do it well, so they leave you in peace. Shimada is a good partner to have. Quiet, polite, self sufficient. The two of you settle into a groove easily.

Kise goes through girlfriends like tissues, each as perfect and pretty as he is. None of them last longer than a month. You get used to finding him in a growing crowd of admirers, fake smile on his face, boredom in his eyes.

Junior high is - dull. The classes are dull, the people are dull, and the teachers are _dull_. Every second you spend in it is like something _itching_ inside you. Time is slipping past, wasting away. You want _out_ \- until you're ready to jump out a window just to get it to stop. You don't want to be here. You want to go out and capture things. You want to see more things, you want to bring them home with you in a tiny square, proof that you existed, here, now.

Most of the time, you can ignore it. You have Kise and your family, the newspaper club and your work at the magazines.

It's not enough.

The world's a big place and you're _missing_ it.

Sometimes in the middle of the night, when Kise is asleep, you find your thoughts straying to other countries. Picking up a passport and just - _going._ Even if your leave your family behind, even when you remember that you're turning fourteen and not twenty seven. Instead, you go out at night, wander restlessly for hours. You learn the side roads, the shops, the bad areas of town.

Sometimes it takes you hours to escape your own thoughts.

That's how you make your second friend.

 **,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

One of your routes takes you past a basketball court, in the middle of a park. One of the streetlights is flickering, and it makes for interesting lighting. It's close to one in the morning, and the moon is barely a sliver in the sky. Normally you don't see anyone there - the delinquents are all at the red light district at this time of night.

Tonight there's someone there. A familiar someone, sitting on a park bench with his head in his hands and a basketball beside him. It's dark, but you don't need light to see the defeated slump of his shoulders.

Nijimura.

You contemplate ignoring him. The captain is surprisingly tolerable for a canon character. But. Effort. You're tired and not good with people. You really only know him from the basketball/interview thing.

Sympathy is not your strong suit.

Nijimura sits up with a sigh, and knocks the basketball off the bench. It rolls towards you and the choice is taken out of your hands. He looks up. "Camera girl? What the hell are you doing out?"

"Ryugawa." You say.

"What? Oh. Right. Ryugawa, what the hell are you doing out at -" he glances at his phone. "One-thirty in the morning. Shit. My mom is going to kill me and my dad is going to _let her_." He doesn't make any attempt at moving though. Just sits and looks like death warmed over. Nijimura looks folded, creased with worry.

You bend down and scoop op the ball at your feet, and toss it back to him. Wasn't there something to do with his dad being sick? "You need a job?" your mouth asks before your brain can catch up

He blinks, habitual scowl falling. "Do I need a what?"

"Do you need a job?" You say, refusing to be embarrassed. It's already done. Might as well go all in. "My dad needs an assistant. It's got good pay and steady hours."

"What - no, seriously, where did that come from?" He looks up at the sky with a long-suffering expression. "Why is my kohai asking me if I need a job in an empty park at one in the morning, without any context? What even is my life? Why do I always have to deal with the _weird ones_?"

You give him an unimpressed look. He really needed to learn how to roll with things. "It's a yes or no question, Nijimura."

"Treat your sempai with more respect, you brat." He stood from the bench. "And I'll have to think about it. What does your father even do?"

"He's the CEO of an international company."

Nijimura stared at you with dead eyes. Than he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course he is. _Why_ would he hire a fifteen year old to work for him?"

"Because I recommend you. Obviously." Everything you do is rooted in selfishness. That's what you chose, since you were old enough to walk. If Nijimura does well - your dad will have someone to pass his company down to.

Someone who's not you. Your dad would never force you into business, but he's never hid how much he wanted to teach someone the ropes. He'd like Nijimura.

Most importantly, _you_ wouldn't have to feel guilty about it anymore.

"Obviously." He sighed again, but a smile crossed his face. "Thanks. I'll think about it."

You shrug. It's not like you're doing it for him.

There's a small pause. "You wanna play?" He asks.

For some ungodly reason -maybe it's because you know that going back home would just result in you not sleeping for another four hours - you say yes.

 **,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

You dribble the ball the way Akashi does. It's harder than it looks, but still pretty easy. The sun is just peeking over the buildings. Nijimura looks lighter, younger.

"Show off. " Nijimura says with a roll of his eyes.. He won - but not by much. It was a closer game than either of you expected, due to the his tiredness and your body's insane learning curve. "Why don't you join the basketball team? Why don't you join _any_ of the sports teams? Teikou would allow it, with talent like yours. Even the boys teams would be lucky to have you."

You line up the shot in your head. The ball leaves your hands and you see it in your mind, following, until you hear the clean swish of net. "You want the truth?"

"Would I have asked if I didn't? Yes, you brat."

"Because I _have_ the talent. I don't have to work for anything, ever. I've never held a basketball in my life, and I make three pointers. It's too easy." You say, and maybe you're more exhausted than you thought, because you give him the truth.

Your body is a marvel.

Your body makes every single achievement seem cheap.

"With photography, you _can't_ win. It's subjective. You're never going to get the perfect shot, ever. I do it because there's always something new to learn. And it's going to outlast me. I like the idea of leaving something behind when I go." Because you sure as hell didn't last time.

And - you want to be remembered, when you die. You want to inspire people without purpose. People like you.

Nijimura scuffed up my hair. "Aren't you a little young to be worried about death?" There's something behind his smile that you can't read, when he looks at the net, at the court. It looks a little like resentment. A little like resignation.

You don't brush him off. But you're not going to change your mind. You love the camera above all else. What is talent compared to the passion that set you alight, when everything was grey and pointless?

Finally, he sighed. "I'll think about the job offer. Thanks."

 **,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

The end of your first year comes around. You're still with the newspaper, but it's getting old. Your rub your eyes. It's been a few months since you and Nijimura started meeting up outside the school. You played for hours again now. "I thought setting up interviews with the advisors was the cap's job." You say.

"The captain has a date tonight, so I volunteered us." Shimada says cheerfully. She's got her hands around a cup of hot chocolate. The two of you are walking to the gym, where lights are still blazing. There was some sort of tournament coming up and the team was training doubly in preparation. You're here to take some candids for Shimada's interview. "Speaking of which, do you have anyone you're planning on spending Christmas with?"

You look down at your own hot chocolate, breath misting. Winter was coming on fast this year. You're looking forward to it. "No. Just family."

"Really? What about that boy I see you walking home with? The pretty blonde one."

You make a face. "No."

"But you walk home with him - he hangs all over you." Shimada says, eyebrows raised.

You shrug. How long did you and Kise actually "date" for? He was nine at the time - and your birthday was in the same month. Nearly _four_ years.

That was some serious putting up with him. He owes you so many photo-shoots. Leaves blow in the wind, skittering across the ground. You idly snap a few pics. Winter and fall are your favorite seasons to do atmospheric pictures with. Kise would look great with a - oh a crown made of icicles. You file that idea away for later.

Shimada cleared her throat.

You blink and look at her. "What?"

Her cheeks are red with the cold, and her eyes are fixed somewhere over your left shoulder. "I said - you're not dating anyone right now?"

You tilt your head. "No."

She sucks in a deep breath. "In - in that case, would you. W-would you — like to come and um. Spend it with me?"

It takes a second for you to hear her - too lost in your own musing. "Like a date?"

Her entire face is cherry red now. "Y-yes." Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

The two of you stop walking, snow falling down softly around you. For once, you don't really know what to do. You've never really thought about your sexuality, never really considered what preference. The outside of a person only mattered as far as the scope of your camera. Gender was just white noise.

Do you want to date her? Shimada is a pretty girl - and she's fifteen. It's like pouring ice down your spine. This wasn't the same situation as Kise. It wouldn't be fake. You were twenty seven when you died and - no. No thank you. Your parents (in your first life) had an age gap, but they were in their late twenties when they met. A ten year age gap is as low as you're willing to go and even _that's_ a stretch.

So you shake your head. "Sorry. I'm not interested in dating right now."

She looked down and let out a shaky laugh; it wasn't a happy sound. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. "You - um. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I can ask the captain to assign you to someone — um. I'm sorry again." Her voice was hoarse and her hands were fisted at the waist. "I'll ask when we get back."

Your eyebrows drew down. "What? Why?"

"Be-because I don't want to make your uncomfortable. Most people don't like knowing. Um. Knowing my preferences." She wrung her fingers, mouth drawn tight. Speaking from experience.

"I don't care about that." You say. "If you wanna switch, fine. Don't do it because you think I want it. You're not terrible to hang around."

Shimada exhales. "Are you - are you sure?"

That gains her an annoyed look. Do you strike her as someone who does things that they don't want to?

"Sorry." She covers her eyes. "Sorry, I just. The last girl I asked avoided me - for years. I didn't expect you to say yes - but it still sucks."

You don't say anything more. The two of you make the rest of the walk in silence. Shimada occasional sniffled.

Nijimura was waiting for you inside the coaches office. "You guys are late." Nijimura looked at the two of you and his irritation dropped in favor of concern . "Have you been crying? What happened?"

You glance at your journalist. Her eyes are still red rimmed.

Shimada inhaled once and straightened. "Nothing happened. Sorry for being late, sensei. Shall we get started?" She looked at you - or rather somewhere over your shoulder. "Can you get the pictures now?"

"Sure." You leave and Nijimura followed you.

Nijimura is a nightmare to photograph. He moves at the exact wrong moment, and getting him to hold still was a chore in itself. He acts like a thug. You're not surprised none of the other photographers with the paper wouldn't come near him. Only half of _your_ pictures turned out with any sort of quality. To blurry, to close, weird faces, closed eyes - the whole shebang. Anyone else would have given up after the twenty fifth ruined picture.

The trick to get him to cooperate was to make him forget you had a camera in the first place. Conversation worked the best. You just had to ask him about his family or about basketball and he'd talk for hours.

He crossed his arms. "Seriously. What happened? Did someone harass you guys?

"She got turned down."

His paused. "That sucks. By who? I can kick his ass if she wants."

"Me." You say.

Nijimura fumbled for the basketball. "Yo — should you be telling me this?"

You snap a picture a split second before he catches the ball. It's a good one, you can tell. Then the question reaches you and You give him a flat look. "Why wouldn't I? We're friends."

He holds my gaze, a unreadable in his eyes. "...Well, alright. People can be shit-heads. They might try to start something."

"Why would I care about their opinions?" The very idea was laughable.

"You might not, but _Shimada_ would."

You pause. That's true. She seemed upset about it. "You're right. I'll keep that in mind."

Nijimura lost the look and ruffled your hair. "You do that. So, we're friends, huh?"

You allowed it. "What's wrong with you?"

His hand stilled. "What do you mean?"

"You're acting weird."

"I am not."

You give him another flat look.

He sighs, resigned. "I'm resigning. Stepping down from being captain."

…That wasn't what you were expecting. "Huh. Why?"

"They don't need me anymore. We just got a new member of first string - he's a little bit of a brat, but the team is talking to each other more. I'll just hold them back. They're a scary bunch of kids." He sounds fond.

"Akashi's the new captain?"

He shrugged. "Who else would it be?"

You nod. "Okay." You fiddle with your camera.

"That's all you have to say?"

You're not a fan of futile battles. "Could I change your mind?"

Nijimura looked down at you for a long moment. Then he smiles and messes up your hair again. "Nope."

"Then why would I bother?"

Nijimura laughs.

 **,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

The first Kise comes home with a look on his face like he's been hit in the head. Stunned, and sort of breathless. He grabs you and pulls you into a spin, nearly gliding across the wood floor. "I'm going to join the basketball club! There was this boy - it was amazing, Hanacchi, he was amazing!"

Your legs get tangled up in his and you go down in a pile of undignified flailing. You wheeze, the breath knocked out of you. "Kise, what the hell." You say when the air comes back, interrupting his babbling. "Slow down, asshole. I can't understand a word you're saying."

"I- I think I found it."

"Found what?"

The smile on his face. Radiant, happier then you've seen for a long, long time. The resentment and boredom is gone and he looks like a normal thirteen year old now. "My passion. I'm gonna join the basketball team!"

Grudgingly, you forgive him for knocking you over like an excited dog. Then his words catch up with you. "What, really?"

Were you already that far along in cannon?

Kise practically vibrates out of his perfect skin. "Really!"

You can't stop your slight smile. "That's great." You mean it. The years before you found your camera were — awful. Dull. Empty as a desert.

It wasn't that different from being dead (and you would know).

You wouldn't wish it on anyone.

His answering smile was blinding.

Then you shoved him off and get to your feet. "You're heavy. What are you eating, rocks?" You examine your camera - no damage, looks like. Kise's wallet would be the least of his worries if it was.

He yelped, and tumbled off. "Excuse you, this is pure muscle."

You offered him your hand. "Let's eat. I think your mom dropped something off yesterday. She brought curry."

Kise looks at your hand, and a soft smile passes over his face. "Alright."

He takes your hand and you pull him up.

The two of you eat and Kise tells you about Aomine Daiki, who loved basketball enough to move Kise, with enthusiasm.

Looking at his radiant face, you sigh internally.

Now you owed some basketball idiot a favor.

 _Great_.

 **,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

You check your phone. Five fifteen. The sun was setting, dying Teikou campus red and gold. One by one, the streetlights liker on. Practice should be over by now, but Kise wasn't waiting for you. He would have texted if something happened, because he was texting you constantly anyway. You breathe warmth into your fingers; white mist spills from your mouth. The next semester was almost here, and winter break. You were looking forward to it.

The club members drift off in groups. No blond.

Finally, you gave up and enter the gym.

"Oh shit— Duck!"

Only hours of playing with Nijimura saves you from a black eye. The basketball hits your palm instead of your face, topspin almost skidding and flipping it up to your nose. You get your hands around it by transferring the spin into something calmer, balanced on your fingertip.

You look at the ball like you can't quite figure out where it came from. Then you look up to find all the people left in the gym staring at you. The Generation of Miracles, some punk you don't know, Momoi and Nijimura.

 _Of course._

"Ow." You say flatly. Your entire arm _felt_ that. "What the hell."

That jolts them into movement. Momoi started forward. "Oh my god, are you alright?"

Kise darts to you to. "Hanacchi, are you hurt?"

Aomine makes it to you first, knocking Kise aside like a piece of paper. He grabs you by the shoulders and gives you a shake. He's at least a two heads taller than you. "How did you catch that? Do you play?" His eyes shine with a worrying light. "Play against with me!"

You knock his arms off your shoulders, just in time to avoid being taken down with him.

"Aomine-kun is a brute." Kuroko says blandly, like he hadn't just brought his teammate down with a vicious shin kick. "He should know better than to manhandle girls. Shame on him."

"I'm not the one who threw the ball, Tetsu!" Aomine protested.

"I think you'll find that Aomine-kun failed to catch it."

"Unfair! Satsuki, tell him that's unfair!" The giant whined. "It's not my fault his passes are _insane_."

"Honestly, Aomine, stop blaming Kuroko for your inadequacies. " Midorima adjusted his glasses. "Virgo's are particularly violent today ~ nanodayo."

"Mine-chin is the worst." Murasakibara says. "Hurting a girl - even if it is _that_ one."

You glare at him. He glares at you. Your relationship hadn't improved much. There was just something about him that rubbed you the wrong way.

Akashi pats him on the arm - it's the only place he can reach. His red eyes study you. "Be nice, Atsushi. Ryugawa-san, I had no idea you played." Akashi said.

You give him a bored glance. "I don't."

"Bullshit!" Aomine says from the floor. "Akashi, they're bullying me!"

"Please get off of me, Aominecchi! I'm dying." Kise says plaintively.

Akashi doesn't look away. "Please don't make false accusations, Aomine. It's unbecoming."

Aomine makes a wounded noise.

You all ignore him.

Akashi opened his mouth but before he can say anything, Momoi takes the place of Aomine. Shes standing in front of you, pink eyes wide. You've never spoken directly, but you know each other by sight. "Ryugawa-san, are you hurt? Tetsu-kun's passes are intense."

You blink once. "Your hair is beautiful. So are your eyes." You say. "Do you mind if I take your picture?"

"Um. Thank you. I guess that's okay?" Momoi says, her face going pink.

Awesome. She's pretty as Kise, in a completely different way. "Thank you," you say with a sincere smile.

"You're never going to get rid of her now, Momoicchi." Kise says, completely deadpan. "Hanacchi is going keep you forever."

"Shut up Kise." You say absently, still critically examining Momoi. What would work best? Full sunlight? Moonlight? Indoor? Outdoor?

She studies you in return. Her eyes are sharp and concentrated.

It's a good look on her.

"Okay, okay. Ryugawa's fine. Break it up, you idiots." Nijimura says, shooing them off . He glances at you, at the ball still spinning away, and them back you. He rolls his eyes. "Of course you'd be the one to catch it. I'm not even surprised. You're _weird_ enough. You just need to dye your hair and you'd fit right in."

"I think I'm offended." You say after a moment.

"Whatever. What're you doing hanging around this late anyway? Did I miss a memo from the paper or something?"

You let the ball fall, dribbling it like you've done so many times against him. "Nope. I'm here to pick Kise up." You glare at the friend in question, who's still lying on the floor for some reason. "Who's _late_ , by the way."

Kise glanced at the high window and paled; by now the sun was completely gone. He bolted up. "Oh my god, I'm so late. I didn't realize what time it was! I need to get my stuff and — " Kise took one step and his buckled underneath him. Aomine, already up, caught him with a little noise of protest. Kise's already flushed face went tomato red.

You raise an eyebrow at him.

He went almost purple. "I think I overdid it." Kise said, pushing off Aomine with haste, flailing limbs barely missing Kuroko's head.

Kuroko coughed politely. "Kise-kun tries to outplay Aomine-kun, because he's an idiot."

Kise, Momoi, Aomine, and Nijimura jump.

You stare at them.

What the hell was that reaction?

"Tetsu, quit _sneaking up_ on people." Aomine said. "You're going to give someone a heart attack."

"What the hell are you talking about? He's been standing there the whole time." You say.

Now _you_ were the one being stared at. "What?"

"You can _see_ Tetsu-kun?" Momoi asks.

You look at her and then at him, just standing there. "Is that a trick question? He's... right there."

Nijimura has his head in his hands and his shoulders are shaking. You glower at him. You know when someone is laughing at your expense. "Of course you can see him! 'He's right there!'. Oh god, my sides."

Kuroko looks like he's completely lost. "I have a very weak presence. People don't just … _see me_."

Oh. That was his whole thing, right. The tension drains from your shoulders."Huh. whatever. Kise, get you shit. We need to catch the next train."

Kise shook himself. "Right. I got my stuff, Hanacchi. I'm ready." he hefted his bag over his shoulders and waved at the rest of them with his shiniest smile on. "See you tomorrow!"

Nijimura snickered. "R-right. Right, see you bright and early. Later Ryugawa."

You flip him off and leave. Kise falls into step with you.

"Wait. Why did they leave together?" you hear Aomine ask just before you're out the door. "Are they dating? Kise and that plain girl?"

"Aomine-kun wouldn't know tact if it bit him." Kuroko says, judgment dripping from his bland voice.

And they were off again. You left them to their bickering, put them behind you.

You have other things to worry about.

Kise has been keeping secrets.

 **,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

 **i found the very earliest concept for hana, back when she was literally a list of phrases this shit is hilarious and goes like this:**

 **.What the hell is basketball**

 **.Yolo muthatruka**

 **.Congrats On Your Face**

 **.Meet me out by the pit**

 **.Everybody was kung fu fighting**

 **.Point and shoot (no not like that)**

 **.What are these "rules" of which you speak?**

 **.Crossdressing for great justice**

 **.Burn the gender binary**

 **.don't get mad get even**

 **.Isn't mercy a type of food? Can you eat it?**

 **.Fight all the creeps!**

 **i love this it's like nothing changed except her appearance**


	5. V

**V.**

 **,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

You take Kise home after practice. The house is warm and still but you leave the lights off except for one of the small ones over the entrance, letting the pale glow catch on your painted nails and Kise's hair.

Kise dumps his bag on the floor like always, heads to the living room and flops face down on the couch.

You'll let it go for now. Instead, you step over it and follow him to The Couch.

The Couch is a mauve and green abomination with the softness of a ten thousand dollar bed. Perfect for movie marathons when you can't sleep and you don't feel like going out. The look on your parents face when you bought was hilarious. They put a budget on your furniture spending after.

Leaving him there, you head into the kitchen, for once mimicking Kise and leaving your bag. Sleep tugged at your mind; begging you to catch up on too many nights without rest.

(Awake, your last life is like a movie that you watched once upon a time. Faces are faded, blurred. Smiles and laughter and tears and an emotions are all second hand. Sounds and words are echos.

At night - at night everything is more immediate.

Lights. Sounds.

Pain.

Nothing.

You don't sleep most nights. Your body doesn't seem to need much.)

This was going to be a Conversation, you could tell. One with emotions. You're not great at empathy in general.

The things that you do for him.

Grabbing an apple, you head back into the living room. Kise had the TV on and the volume down low. The sound of a basketball being dribbled across the court and Kise is staring at it like it holds the answer to world peace.

You roll your eyes and collapsed sideways onto him, not gently.

Kise wheezes, and mashes his face in the cushion.

Neither of you talk.

Kise fidgets and shifts, but you don't budge. Either he's going to talk, or you're going to sit on him till morning. You crunch into your apple, not moving a muscle. When you wanted, you could outwait a mountain - Kise doesn't stand a chance.

Like always, he breaks first.

Kise's voice is muffled. "I got dumped again."

You tilt your head back, thinking. Was this the girl with the beauty mark drawn on or the one with the knock off prada bag?

No, he meant the one that showed up at your apartment last week. That was a shame. This one had hair the color of black coffee and perfect smoky eye shadow technique. You almost introduced her to a model you know. She could have gone pretty far in the industry. She took one look at you and her nose wrinkled like she stepped in something foul.

You'd ignored her like all the rest.

Kise's girlfriends were always pretty and popular and they always dumped him. Girlfriend number twelve was nearly the same as girlfriend number one.

They always hate you.

"I think there's something wrong with me," Kise said after a long silent moment. "I thought it would be like dating you. Someone who hangs out with me, who doesn't mind the attention that I get. Who doesn't want another best friend? They always start out fine and it's not like there's something wrong with them. It's just — I don't feel _anything_ for them."

"So?" That was normal, right?

"They end up crying on me. Guys don't like making girls cry. It feels terrible."

Runny makeup would be annoying. It's hell to get out of your clothes.

"But you like Aomine." You point out.

He made a noise like a tea kettle boiling over. "That's _different_ , Hanacchi! When I saw Aomine for the first time he was playing basketball; you've never seen him like that - even you would get a little starstruck, okay? He gets _intense_."

You consider this for a moment. "Yeah, you're crushing pretty hard."

Kise presses his face into the back of the couch. _"Nooooo_. I don't _want_ to. He's a basketball idiot. I have better taste than that. If I'm going to be gay it's going to be for someone just as pretty and famous as I am. Just because he's got the body of a god and really nice eyes and - _oh god_. I'm so gay, Hanacchi."

"You have no taste when it comes to people."

Exhibit A: You.

(B through H are also you. The rest are his girlfriends.)

"Hanacchi, it's so dumb. He's _so dumb_."

"And hot."

"Oh my god."

"What? I'm a photographer. I notice stuff. You want to climb him like a tree. Make with the make out, the beast with two backs, the horizontal tango, score some hoops in his _pants,_ if you know what I mean -"

Kise spluttered and flailed up, knocking you over; he slapped a hand over your mouth. Up close, you can see the vivid blush, even in the low light. "Oh my god, shut up! You are _the worst_. I'm going to tell your mom you're corrupting me."

True.

An impromptu shoving match takes place. There is hair pulling and tickling and all sorts of dirty tricks, but you're far more ruthless than Kise is. He ends up with his face mashed into the couch with you sitting on his back again.

"The balance has been restored," You say solemnly while he swears into the couch. "Once again, the strongest sibling rules; and so it shall be forever."

"The _worst_ ," Kise says.

You roll your eyes and finish off the apple. You shoot it into the trash beside the TV. It lands neatly.

There's another silence.

Kise was the one to break it again. "You don't mind? About… _liking_. Aomine."

You smack his head, and then you do it again just because. "I thought I heard something so stupid that I almost died - stop trying to lower my IQ because you're jealous. Did a basketball hit you one too many times?"

"Okay, okay, ow! Hanacchi is a bastion of forward thinking; please stop hitting me in the face, it's insured." Kise was laughing though, like some sort of weight had been lifted off him.

You hit him again, just because.

You're not going to listen to him talk about his guy problems, though. You draw the line at hearing a kid you knew in diapers talk about sex stuff.

What an idiot.

 **,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

Despite having both Akashi _and_ Midorima in your class, Kise as your friend, and Aomine - ineffectively - trying to pester you into a game, you still don't care about sports. You're doging miracles left and right just walking through the halls after class. It's getting a little stupid

Operation: What the hell is basketball is going swimmingly. Avoiding all mention of basketball - and other sports just to be safe - while being trapped in a sports crazy school like Teikou is hard. It's taken dedication, creativity, paranoia, and a truly staggering amount of selective obliviousness, but you've done it.

It's just that drama made you break out in hives.

Of course, you can't dodge them all the time. Lunchtime is spent with Kise. Kise, who's part of the basketball club. Kise who sat with the miracles more often than not.

"Hanacchi!" Kise called over the talk of the cafeteria. "Over here!" He is waving something - you recognized the cover of Gloss, a fashion magazine that you'd recently done a shoot for.

He _is_ sitting with the rest of the miracle's.

 _Of course._

You chew on the straw of your juice box (Cherry flavored! Full of vitamin A and necessary antioxidants!). You don't like looking at food or smelling it, some days. You _should_ just leave.

On one hand: Sulking Kise.

On the other: You're allergic to sports drama.

Which one would be more annoying?

You resentfully make your way over. "Kise." You say, leaning on Kise like he's your own personal resting post.

"Hello, Hanako-san." Akashi says, an amused smile hidden in the crease of his mouth. You're pretty sure that he knows that you're avoiding the basketball team, even if he doesn't know why, and he found your pain funny.

"Go away." Murasakibara says.

You flip him off.

"Akashi. Shin-chan. Momoi." Because you have no luck, all of the miracles are present. Kuroko, Aomine, Akashi and - ugh - Murasakibara on one side. Kise and Midorima on the other. Momoi gives you a tentative smile from beside Aomine.

Midorima sniffed. "That is not the proper way to act, Ryugawa. A lady should -"

"Shut up, Shin-chan."

He settles into offended silence and Akashi coughs, hiding his smile behind his hand.

You roll your eyes. To be honest, Midorima was your favorite of the entire generation. You like selfish people. Kise. Yourself.

Also, his eyelashes and hands make you reach for your camera more often than not. He's not Kise level pretty, but he's got his own charm.

A hand reached down and snatched something off Kuroko's plate. "What the fuck is up?"

"Haizaki-kun." Kuroko says evenly.

Kise's body locks up.

"Who's the chick?" Haizaki said around a mouthful of food. "Your newest bitch Ryouta? You only got dumped a week ago. That's cold man."

You glance at the newcomer - and recognize him from all your time with the basketball team, but you've never spoken to him. Haizaki Shougo wasn't that interesting. You leaned over kise's shoulder, getting a better look at the magazine. Hiro - the model - was gaunt and terrifying looking.

"That was a fun shoot," you say. Even if she kept chattering at you.

Kise leaned back into you, letting you rest your chin on his shoulder. His shoulders are still tense, but his face is normal. "Kasumi-nee called last night. She has a job for you or something."

You hum. "What job?"

Your head moves with his shrug. "Something about america and a rich father? It was one in the morning. I stopped listening to her after the third rant about socioeconomics. She was pretty drunk."

"I'll call her back tonight."

"You guys are so gross." Aomine says.

Kise and you turn to him as one. "What?"

He gestures at you with his fork. "Quit it with the pda! Some people are trying to eat."

"Kise-kun is shameless." Kuroko adds.

"Eh, Aominecchi is mean." Kise ignores Kuroko entirely, pouting at Aomine full force.

What? Wasn't he supposed to be sort of in love with Kuroko?

A hand slammed into the table hard enough to send the dishes rattling. "Don't ignore your betters, Ryouta. It's _rude._ " Haizaki eyes trailed over you like a slime coated hand. "Or are you still upset about that thing with Hifumi-chan? I can't help that girls just like me better than you."

He flashes you a fake smile. "Haizaki Shougo, starter for the basketball club. Hana-chan, right? From the newspaper."

You ignore Kise's tense body and let your eyes drag up his body, going slow until you get to his face. Haizaki is good looking and talented in a very normal way, without Kise's beauty or Momoi's silk over steel look. A manipulative douche like all the manipulative douches that you've met before.

As fake smiles go, you give it a four out of ten. It might fool preteens in love, but you spend your time with professional models.

Not good enough.

"Don't refer to me by my first name. It's _rude_." You say, around the juice box.

("Shut. Down." Aomine whispers.

"Shh!" Momoi whispers back.)

His handsome face twists into something ugly and he leans into your personal space. "What the fuck did you say to me, you bitch? You think you're too good for me?"

"Yes." Obviously.

His fist comes back and Momoi gasps. You see Murasakibara look a lot less sleepy from the corner of your eye. "Say your prayers _bitch_ -"

"Shougo." Akashi's voice could have been a razor to a throat. "That is not how we behave on the basketball team. This is your only warning."

There was a moment of perilous silence. Haizaki met Akashi eyes. Finally, the grey haired boy sneered. "Sure thing, _Captain._ " He threw a poisonous glare at you over his shoulder. "Guess we'll have to finish that _discussion_ outside of school."

An uneasy silence is left behind. Akashi sighs. "Shougou is getting out of control. My sincerest apologies, Hanako-san. He will be disciplined."

"He only gets one." You say and drop Kise's chopsticks back onto his bento.

Kise snorts.

The next time he gets in your face will be his last. You're not afraid of blood - yours or others. Martial arts are just as easy as everything else.

You meet Akashi's eyes and he gives a miniscule nod.

Message received.

Momoi stands up, hands twisting together in worried knots. "Are you okay Hana-chan?"

You give her an odd look. It's not like he hit you. "Yeah."

Kise keeps his face straight, but you can feel his shoulders shake with mirth. He clears his throat. "Hanacchi, Akashicchi is going to let me play in a game! It's only a practice match, but I'm starting! You're coming, right?"

Auntie would kill you if you didn't get pictures. "Obviously."

Momoi clears her throat. She's still standing.

You look over to Momoi with a blank face.

She give you a nervous looking smile. "You and Kise are very close Ryukawa-san -"

"You can call me Hana." You say.

Momoi's eyes dart the way Haizaki stormed off in then back to you. Her smile becomes more confident. "Hana-chan, then. What is that you do?"

"You don't know Momoicchi?" Kise says, a note of surprise in his voice. "I thought you knew everything!"

Momoi laughed. "Hana-chan has nothing to do with basketball, Ki-kun. I haven't had the time to look into it yet."

"I'm a photographer." You say, slipping into the table between Kise and Kuroko, across from Momoi. You pick up a cherry tomato from Kise's salad and pop into your mouth.

"Hanacchi is the best!" Kise says, in full sparkle mode as he shoves the magazine across the table. "She did this spread for a big clothing company two weeks ago, and she's already getting more offers. She's won tons of prizes too!"

The entire table looked at the photographs.

"I don't get it." Aomine says. No one is surprised.

Momoi's eyes went wide. "These are really good."

"I know." you say.

Akashi makes a noise of recognition. "I thought your name sounded familiar. Father was talking about getting someone to do the advertisements for a product we make and your name came up."

"Hell have to wait." You say. "I have a list as long as my arm." Your father actually had to have his secretary go through everything that you've been getting.

Akashi smiled. "My father isn't used to being told no. He was quite disappointed about it, because he works closely with your own father. I don't suppose you'd be willing to do it as a favour to me?"

"No, I wouldn't."

Akashi blinked.

"You wanted to take _my_ picture?" Momoi burst out. The magazine was crushed between her hands and her voice was even higher pitched than normal. " _Why_?"

...Is that a trick question?

"Because you're beautiful."

Because she is. Her hair is peach and her skin is flawless. Her eyes are your favorite part - too sharp for her face; they don't fit, betraying the intelligence her face denied.

Momoi's face goes cherry red and her mouth opens and closes. She stares at you with an almost helpless look in her eyes. " I - I have to go!" She squeaks and bounces up from the table. "Lot's of data to analyze, lots of - bye!"

Her skirt flutters and then she's gone.

All of you look after her for a few stunned seconds.

"What the hell?" Aomine says.

You look at Kise.

Kise looks at you.

"Hanacchi is a ladykiller." Kise says.

You shove him. "Shut up."

"Gross," Murasakibara says. "Leave Momo-chin alone."

"You are _all_ idiots." Midorima says under his breath.

Kuroko sighs. "Murasakibara-kun, please don't chew with your mouth open."

Akashi coughs and takes a sip of tea.

You narrow your eyes at him. He's laughing at you again. You steal his dessert in revenge.

 **,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

Summer sun beat down on your feet, the only part of you outside of the shade. Your half eaten bento is abandoned in favor of an catalog in english. Kasumi wanted you to pick out something for an early birthday present. They have some specialized gear that you can't get in japan.

The shadow lingers at the edge of your bench for a good ten minutes, paitently waitning for you to aknowledge it.

If you ignored the boy standing over you, he might get bored and go away.

"Hanako-san." Akashi says.

"Busy. Go away." Spending lunch out in the courtyard is supposed to be safe from basketball. You flip another page. The team didn't come to _you._ You weren't apart of their group.

Akashi sighs. "Hanako-san, this will only take a moment. Please indulge me."

"You're not going to leave, are you?"

"No. I am very stubborn."

You sigh and roll your head back, look up at him. "What?"

Incredibly, Akashi hesitates. "It's a somewhat embaressing matter. Please know that whatever your answer, I will respect it."

Okay. Now you're intrested. "Spit it out."

He - sighs. "My father wants me to... pick a wife. Yes, I know that it's old fashion - but it is what is. There is. - _pressure._ "

"What does that have to do with anything? Tell him to stuff it."

Akashi paused. "He's my father."

You shrug. And?

Akashi looks confused and a little lost. Akashi is pretty in the way all the Miracles are. The calm supiritority radiates off him like the sun gives off heat. Right now, there's something brittle about his face. Like you suggested turning off gravity, or swimming across the moon. "He's my father." He repeats.

Irritation sparked. "Whatever. What do you want?"

"I was hoping that _you_ would consider posing as my fiance. It's a temporary measure, until I found someone more interested, or until we graduate. Whichever comes first." Akashi sighed. "A true partner is not something that I want to worry about right now, on top of being captain and maintaining my studies."

...this sounds familiar. "Why come to me?"

"You're the best candidate. You have ties to a prestigious family of entertainers, your father is the CEO of a company on par with my father, your mother is one of the best lawyers in Japan, and you yourself have won countless awards for photography and achieved full marks on your tests. My father could not possibly disapprove."

"Plus I'm the heir to a company that he wants. And he wants you to marry me to take it over."

Akashi blinked, clearly surprised. Then he smiles. "Yes. He is a very old fashioned man. In his days, women did not inherit their father's companies."

You shrug. "Well, sorry to disappoint but I'm not inheriting it either way."

"... Does _your_ father disapprove?" Akashi's mouth went thin.

What a gentleman. "Nah. I just don't want to."

"I see." Akashi clearly did not see. "Anyway, will you consider it? you're the only one that I know who won't take it too seriously."

Maybe it's the nostalgia that makes you shrug, smile a little. "I'll think about it."

The chances are slim.

You don't intend to be in cutting range when Akashi shatters.

(But you've been bored. Fake dating Kise give you something to do during grade school. Maybe...)

Akashi sighed. "That's all I can ask for." Before he turns, he adjusts his shirt. "You might want to look down."

You glance down to find that four of your buttons are gone, and your shirt is gaping open. Sking and bra (black, lots of lace, because Kasumi does most of your shopping) are both exposed. "Oh. That would explains some things." You thought people were staring at you more then usual. How long was it like that?

He clears his throat, and his ears go a little red. "I'll send Momoi along with a spare shirt."

You raise your hand in a lazy salute. "Sure thing."

 **,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

Two days latter you brave the people and the stands and the sheer - sportiness of it and sit through Kise's first game. The rules pass over your head like a bullet train. You have a seat that's almost on the bench and Kise spots you.

Kise is faltering. Nervous. Not as sparkly as he normally is. He waves.

You give him half a smile and he relaxes.

(You remember your first big competition, stepping up for the award ceremony. Six years old, you were dwarfed by the teenagers and adults.

It might be the closest you've ever been to being unsure in this life. He looks like you felt.)

He fumbles for the ball and trips over his own feet. Your shoulders grow tighter. The view through your camera is a grim one.

Kise doesn't have the stamina for this.

It's chance and luck that you have the camera on them. Their heads are bowed together, their words to quiet to hear, but you watch Kise's shoulder settle. His steps firm, his head tilt up. He glances at you again and then back at Kuroko, who says something that makes Kise laugh. Kuroko offers Kise a hand off the ground and you see the moment Kise falls. See his face shift, like the whole universe shifted and this pale, invisible boy is a compass that points to its center.

You swallow and lean into the plastic seat, clutching the camera in your hands. The world is unsteady. You feel cold, and small, and very young. Like a foundation has cracked under your feet.

Kise leans in and your heart sinks.

You capture the moment anyway. You don't know people, but you _know_ Kise. This isn't Aomine. A puppy crush fueled by hormones, a chance infatuation.

It's fascination.

It's the feeling that you're not the most important person in his life anymore.

Kise's eyes follow Kuroko across the room.

It's the start of something you don't understand.

He blows past the other team.

Even for Kise, it's beautiful.

You cheer when they win, jump up and weave your way over to throw your arm around Kise. "Good work."

Kuroko smiles and towels sweat off his face. "Well done, Kise-kun."

Kise - blushes, not in a pretty way. It's all ugly flush and sweat and you stare, because you've never seen him look so real. "Thanks, Kurokocchi! I think you should take me out to eat. It is my first game after all."

Kuroko blinks, face deadpan. "Kise-kun ruined it by opening his mouth." But you can see the smile in his eyes when he turns away.

Kise pouts, and follows like a there's a magnet in his bones and Kuroko is true north. "Kurokocchi is so mean!"

You're left behind and Kise doesn't look back.

You turn your eyes to Kuroko and something hot and bitter fills your throat.

Being replaced always hurts.

(It will take you a long time to forgive either of them.)

 **,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

 **Author's note: okay i was tired of editing this shit. stuff happened which is why this is so late. got a job - yay! overnights - not yay! suffered through all the training so i can't quit now.**

 **i don't want to live on the moon is still in the works (sorry T-T) but that should up sometime in the next week. probally gonna have to slow down on the updates until things settle down over here.**


	6. VI

**warnings: depression, thoughts of suicide, blood, misogyny and crude language (thanks haizaki), disassociation, violence**

 **dying fucks you up basically.**

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

VI

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

You have bad days.

They go like this: You fall asleep. Dream about dying, about vanishing into nothing. Dream about the loss of everything you've ever loved or hated or felt anything for. Dream about a dark place, soft and peaceful. Peace without ending, peace without pain.

Dream about dreaming.

Wake up.

Peace vanishes like smoke. The loss feels like being punched in the throat, like the kick of your heart is a siren in your head. Understand, again, how much you've lost; how much you've changed. You stare at the ceiling, eyes and mouth dry and you don't _care_.

Death scrubs you clean. People, places, promises - in the dark, they mean nothing.

Repeat a word often enough and it loses meaning. Relive a memory too much and it frays.

You brought a piece of the dark place out into life. Sometimes it swallows you until everything seems ...pointless. At the end of this life, you'll be dead again. You were an older sister once. Their faces are still sharp. The only thing left is the echo of a thought. A grief you don't feel.

(Nothing matters when you're dead.

You miss it.)

Your door creaks open. "Hanacchi, you up? You're gonna be late."

It takes one long moment to recognize the voice.

 _Kise._

You wait for the sting of his voice to set in, the regret for making him worry. You haven't spoken more than three words to Kise in the past few mornings.

It doesn't matter.

Kise knocks a few more times before the door creaks open, lets in a sliver of light. "Hanacchi? Are you awake?"

Turn your head. Talk to him.

You roll over and stare at the wall instead. Your face feels like a whiteboard wiped clean. The body you're stuck in feels heavy, sluggish, disconnected. The heart is too loud.

"Hanacchi? Are you... awake?" He tries again. "Are you sick? Is it that time of the month?"

Silence. Your eyes are heavy, so you close them.

Eventually, Kise leaves for school.

You don't know how long you stay in the dark. Your curtains are heavy enough to block the sun. You sink down, further into the numbness. Even breathing takes effort, almost more than you have in you. Nothing you do matters in the end - so why do anything at all?

Things move on the edge of your vision - a flash of yellow. Food appears in your room that you don't eat. Water you don't drink. You don't sleep, you don't speak, you don't blink.

You just… don't. For a long time, you don't. You _can't_.

It's a phone call that pulls you out. The jaunty, ear grating tune drags your attention to the nightstand. There - next to the bowl of cold rice. Your mother's face lights up the lock screen. Three minutes later, it goes dark only too light up again instantly.

Maybe she'll stop on her own.

She doesn't.

You just want quiet. Peace. Moving your arm feels like lifting a mountain; you do it anyway. Hit talk, put the speaker on.

Kaede Ryugawa's voice is calm water in a river bed. She has dark, short hair and perfect makeup. Professional. Her mouth is pulled into a frown. "Ryouta called me."

Words… you search for them, but words are always the first thing to go. "Mom." You say, voice a croak.

Her frown deepens. Finally she speaks. "Ryouta wasn't wrong. You look terrible. Are you sick Hana-chan?"

You've already run out of words, so you nod instead.

Her perfect brows furrow. "I can be on the next plane home in three days."

You shake your head. "M fine."

"You are certainly not fine, my dear."

"What about your clients."

She waves her hand, manicured nails flashing in the light. "They can certainly wait. Nothing is more important to me than you. You'll always come first, Hana."

You close your eyes.

She's not joking. Kaede Ryugawa never joked about anything. If you asked, she'd drop anything and come make sure you were fine.

"Mom, I'm fine. It was just a … stomach bug. I'm going back to school today."

Kaede searches your eyes, loving mother replaced for one moment with the number one lawyer in Japan, possibly the world. You don't look away.

"I love you. You know that right, Hana-chan?" Kaede asks.

"...Yeah."

You know.

Finally, she smiles, and it's like the sun comes out. Her entire face goes soft. "Good. Go to school. Eat something. Take a shower. Drink some water. You're going to be fine." She says. "I love you."

"Bye. Love you." It's even true, most of the time.

After the call ends, you stare up at the ceiling, face blank. A bubble of resentment forms in your throat. Sometimes… you wished she loved you less, just so you could go back to the peaceful dark without the guilt. You can't. It would destroy her.

You don't even have the energy to be frustrated at yourself. At this life, for making you exist again.

At your parents for making you want to try.

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

You drag yourself to school, step after heavy step. Noon has come and gone. You left your camera at home and your hands feel empty. There's no one at the gates. The white surgical mask itches against your face. You lean into the wind and let it blow the hair out of your eyes.

The gate is locked, but you pull yourself over the wall like it's nothing. Sometimes, it's like controlling a video game character.

No one tries to speak to you. You listen to the other students chatter like a radio you can't quite tune into. White noise distracts you from how little you feel about anything.

The body wants to live. So it eats and it sleeps and it breathes without any imput from you.

Your heart is slow in your chest. Insistent.

 _Too loud._

You slump over your desk, head cradled in your arms.

Classmates whisper. There is the girl who flinched when you looked at her, the boy who keeps glancing at you, people you've shared a class with for the last six months - and if they died tomorrow you wouldn't miss them. Do you even know their names?

The day passed in snatches, until the bell goes off, and you move blindly with the crowd. The majority of students pull ahead of your slow, careful pace. Listening to teenage chatter has given you a low, insistent headache. It's like a second heart throbbing in your temples.

 _Too_ loud.

You want to sleep for a week.

A pair of feet enter into your view, and you ignore them - only they don't move and you stop just short of walking into the owner of the feet. You look up, a tiny spark flickering to life in your wasteland of a head.

"Heading home, Hana-chan?" The grey- haired boy says, flashing a smile he must think is charming. "I'll go with you! I could never let a girl walk by herself."

You stare blankly up at the person blocking your way. "Do I know you?"

His smile flickers like a candle in a gale. "Are you serious you bit-" He clears his throat and pastes the smile back on. "That's mean Hana-chan. I know we got off on the wrong foot last time-"

You brush past him.

Too. Loud.

A bruising grip jerks you around, throws you up against low brick wall surrounding the school grounds.

The boy's smile is gone. "That's rude Hana-chan."

He's a foot taller than you, and heavy with muscle. There's no one around. The other students are long gone.

If you were anyone else, you might be afraid of the threat in his eyes. It's not a look that belongs in a middle school student; one that said 'I see your fear, and I enjoy it'.

Nothing much scares you anymore.

Your heart and your head throb, loud, deafening. Your teeth are bare, behind the white mask. "Let go."

He sneers and his grip tightens. "Maybe you should ask nicely, whore. Not that I'd want Ryouta's leftovers. What, you couldn't fuck him good enough to make him pay attention to you anymore?" He leans into your face, bracketing your body against the school gate. "You're not even worth trying to seduce. "

You tilt your head, wrist on fire. Grounding. "Maybe you should work on hiding your jealousy better." Your voice is foreign, full of a smiling violence.

Haizaki's - you remember now - face goes blank. "What the fuck are you talking about."

"How long have you been gagging after Kise?"

His eyes go pinched. Wary. "What the fuck are you talking about."

You shrug, blood singing. "It's sort of... obvious. Ryouta this, Ryouta that - You should give it up. I don't think you have a chance with him." You meet his eyes. "It's not because you're a guy. It's because your personality is awful."

Your eye explodes into fire and you gasp, like you've been holding your breath for a long time. You touch your face and you - feel.

You _feel_.

The world is back in color again. Everything is sharper; everything is clear. Copper on your tongue. You touch your face and feel the blood smeared across it.

It's warm.

You look at him from the corner of your eye, keeping your head tilted. "Ow."

The nasty grin falters for one moment. That's not the reaction from a girl he's just punched in the face. Then the smirk comes back full force and he crosses his hands behind his head. "Gonna cry to your boyfriend, bitch? Oh wait - would he even care?"

You smile. "Jealousy is so _ugly._ "

He grabs your shirt and lifts you up from the ground, eyes murderous, fist cocked back again. "I'm going to enjoy this."

"Truth hurts." You say, and knee him in the balls.

Haizaki drops you with a small wheeze.

You land on your feet and brush off your uniform. "You wrinkled my shirt."

He glares at you. "I'll kill you."

"Sure, sure."

Haizaki isn't a pushover. With a snarl of rage, he swings a fist like he's been doing it all his life.

Fast.

You tilt your head and let the fist pass by harmlessly.

Not fast enough.

You kick out again, but he pulls back just in time. You push off the wall, settle into a kata. Kise joined the Judo club in elementary school and you let him practice with your sometimes before he moved on to soccer. The stance feels just as familiar now as it was three years ago.

You tug the surgical mask down so he can see the teeth in your smile. "You wanna go? Let's go."

Haizaki growls and lunges -

\- and a hand catches him mid lunge, stopping him cold.

You blink slowly, following from hand to wrist, from wrist to arm. Up and up, until you're looking into Murasakibara's unsmiling face.

For once, Murasakibara's not holding any sort of snack in his hands. His eyes are hard and sharp behind his bangs, so far from the normal boredom. "Haizaki should stop. Hitting girls isn't nice." His voice is low and serous. Deeper. "Even that one."

Not Haizakichin?

"Murasakibara." You say, for lack of anything better. "Akashi. Don't you have basketball?"

The red head gives you a polite smile. "Hanako. We finished a bit early. Kise and the others are still working." Than he looks at Haizaki and his eyes are cold and very, very angry. "Shougou, how nice of you to show up. You missed practice."

Haizaki freezes for one second before sneering. He jerks free of Murasakibara's grip and leans into Akashi's face and sneers. "Fuck off, Akashi."

"I beg your pardon?" Akashi says. Cold. Brittle. "I don't think I heard that right."

Haizaki laughed, short and bright. Scared. "Relax, captain. Me and Hana-chan were just having a little chat. I wanted to apologize for losing my temper last time."

Akashi looked at you, red eyes flicking from your eye to the blood crusting on your chin. "And the blood?"

"Just a little roughhousing between friends. Isn't that right, Hana-chan?" He flashes you a fake smile. "Sorry about that. Forgive me?"

You stare at him. Did he really expect you to get him out of this?

"No. I don't." You say. "We're not friends. You attacked me."

Murasakibara tilted his head. "Haizaki is a liar."

Akashi smiled. "I see."

Haizaki dropped the smile for an offended look. "What, you're going to believe her over me?" He looked at Murasakibara. "You don't even like her!"

"I don't." He agrees.

Haizaki gestures at him like that's proof. "See? Murasakibara agrees-"

"Hanachin isn't a liar, though." Murasakibara says.

You… don't know how to respond to that. So you don't. Now that the threat of violence is gone , the brief surge of emotion is wearing off. You still feel a little numb, but not like you were.

Your heart isn't as loud.

Luckily, Akashi is does. "So. A member of the basketball team attacked a female student. Your laps are triple for the rest of the school year." His tone is subzero and his face is stone. "Starting today, you are no longer a starter."

Haizaki stared at Akashi, mouth opening and closing. "What? That's bullshit!"

How many girls had he menaced like this, without consequences? Your grip on your bag goes tight at the thought.

Akashi gives him a look. "Quadrupled. I'll speak to the coach."

"You can't do that. I'm one of your best players!"

"You seem to be laboring under a misconception, Shougou. You are not _irreplaceable_. Ryouta, in fact, is ready to take a bigger role in the team."

Haizaki's face is the picture of rage. "Fuck you, Akashi. I'm tired of your holier than thou act. You're nothing but a spoiled rich kid who sucked Nijimura's dick to get where you are. I'll quit if you give it to him."

Murasakibara stares at Haizaki, than steps back next to you. Out of Akashi's line of sight. "Haizaki is _dumb._ "

"I'll second that." You say under your breath without thinking.

The two of you look at each other, startled. You scowl and look away.

Agreeing with Murasakibara, gross.

Akashi's voice comes out mild as milk. "Is that so? I'll file the paperwork. Goodbye, Shougou. The teachers be informed of your... actions today."

Haizaki blinked. "W-what?"

Akashi turns away from him, looks at you. "Hanako, are you alright? I must apologize for taking so long. Let's get that looked at." He gently steers you away from the gate.

You glance over your shoulder at the stunned Haizaki. Than you shrug and let Akashi lead you. "Sure."

Actions have consequences.

You don't owe Haizaki shit.

* * *

The two of you are quiet on the way home. Murasakibara made a face and wandered off towards a convenience store somewhere on the way.

You look up at dark windows in your apartment building.

"Ryouta stayed late to practice with Daiki and Tetsuya." Akashi says.

Your eye throbs. "Oh." You walk up the stairs.

The stairwell is empty at this time of day. You open the door, hands steady, and turn to look at Akashi.

The two of you regard each other for a long moment.

"You're not going away, are you." You say.

He gives you a smile. "And leave a delicate girl like yourself alone? I would never."

You roll your eyes, enter, flick on the lights. You leave the door open behind you.

Akashi follows.

The house is large for two high-school students, especially in Tokyo. The front door opens into the kitchen and beyond that is the living room with it's massive TV. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms. There's a third bedroom you commandeered to act as a dark room. Your parents spared no expense. Most of the walls are covered in photos you liked enough to print out and hang up.

You catch Akashi glancing at the photographs. "What?"

"Did you take these?"

"Yeah."

"They're… very good."

People always sound so surprised when they say that. You have no idea why. It's not like you're shy about how good you are.

"I know." You say.

For some reason that makes Akashi smile. It's a strange, sweet thing. "Indeed. Do you have a first aid kit?"

You do. You grab it from under the bathroom sink and Akashi takes it. He sits on the ugly couch and looks expectantly at you.

You don't move from the doorway. "I can do it myself."

He tilts his head. "I know."

Maybe he's just trying to manipulate you into helping him out with the dating thing. Maybe Akashi really is just concerned about a girl he saw get punched. Maybe Akashi has plans you don't know about.

After a second you slump down on the couch, facing him.

You're tired of being alone.

Neither of you talk while he bandages the scrape you don't remember getting on your knee and the cut under your eye. They sting but you don't make a sound. Your face throbs and you revel in it. Pain is the only thing that seems real right now. Precious red hot points of life on this foreign body, marking it as yours.

You exist.

Here and now, you are alive.

You lean back against the wall and tilt your head up, close your eyes. The sun is a warm hand across your forehead.

Finally, Akashi puts first aide kit down. "That's as good as it's going to get, I think. Your eye will swell up. You'll need to ice it."

"The girlfriend thing." You say, eyes still closed. "I'll do it."

You can feel him pause. "I - oh. What made you change your mind?" He asks.

You shrug. "Masochism?"

"Hanako."

You open your eyes with a shrug. "It's something to do."

Akashi studies you for one long moment. Than he offers you his hand. "A deal, then."

You shake it.

You only realize how tense he is when the line of his spine relaxes and he gives you a small, real smile. "That's a weight off my shoulders."

You shrug again. "What are the parameters?"

Akashi crosses his legs. "Boundaries, you mean? For this to work, we'd have to be close. My father often has my activities monitored. He wouldn't be fooled by a weak show."

"Your dad spies on you." You say. "That's messed up, Akashi."

"Like that. You need to call me by my first name -" He paused. "Your parents don't have bodyguards to keep an eye on you?"

"No. They trust me to tell them I need help."

Akashi's clearly ...didn't.

Akashi's brows draw down, confused. Then he shakes his head and changes the subject.

Whatever. Akashi the elder's shitty parenting isn't your problem.

Yet.

Eventually you hash out all the details. He would introduce you as his girlfriend tomorrow. Any dates that took place would have to be planned at least a week in advance. Your photo-shoots came first, his basketball practice. You would hang out with him in public areas where any spys his father had would report back. Neither of you would attempt anything more physical than holding hands without asking for consent first, except in emergencies, whatever they may be.

He leaves two hours later with a promise to come pick you up tomorrow in his car.

The apartment is quiet, except for the ticking clock in the kitchen. Kise still isn't home. You glance at your phone. The last text is two weeks ago, from your dad.

The dark, quiet place in your dreams is a siren call.

You grab your coat and camera. Shut the door and lock it behind you. Head off into the dark.

Sleep would be a bad idea.

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Dating Akashi is like kicking over a beehive. Full of honey, but liable to get your stung. You don't realize just how many people know him, or know of him until you show up in the same car. He helps you out of the front like a gentleman.

People pointed to you in the school now. Especially the girls.

It's worse than grade school.

The miracles reactions are funny though.

"Are you _serious_?" Aomine demands.

"Quite." Akashi - _Seijuro_ replies.

You take one of the carrots out of his bento. The crunch is loud in the flabbergasted silence.

Hilarious.

Murasakibara recovers first. He whips his head around to stare at Akashi. "Akachin, no. No."

Midorima looks like the entire world offends him.

You're in the cafeteria again, sitting at the same table. The generation of Miracles are creatures of habit.

Kasumi always sends you designer makeup, even though you never use it. For once it comes in handy. All of the evidence of yesterday is hidden away, like it never existed.

Seijuro continues to ignore them, face serene. It's only the corner of his eyes that give away how amused he is. You lean against him casually, pick at his lunch. You don't have much of an appetite lately.

Murasakibara stares at the two of you with a deeply betrayed look on his face. "Akachin, don't date her. She's gross."

Seijuro merely smiled. "That's a matter of opinion, Atsushi."

You give him the peace sign.

Murasakibara makes an appalled noise.

Aomine is still staring. "You're dating Akashi?" His voice is two parts shocked and one part impressed - like you punched him but it looked too cool to be mad about it. "But you won't play me in basketball?"

Kuroko doesn't roll his eyes but it's clear he wants to. "Those things have nothing to do with each other, Aomine-kun."

This time, Aomine only jumps a little bit. "They do too! It's not like she's scared of me, if she's dating Akashi."

Kuroko ignores him. "Congratulations, Akashi-kun."

You hum under your breath, just a noise to acknowledge you're listening.

Kise still hasn't said anything. He stares down at his tray, face blank.

"This is a surprise." Midorima says, tone making it clear it's an unpleasant one. He adjusted his glasses. "When - how did this happen?"

"Yeah." Kise said, voice quiet. The air went tense. "I'd like to know that too."

And he sounded… hurt.

A seed of irritation flared. What right did he have to sound hurt? Like he's spoken more than two words to you in the past five days.

You lean against the table, head on hands. "You were busy." You say. "I'm telling you now."

Kise meets your eyes for one long moment. Then he looks back down at his tray, mouth pulled tight. "I see."

No one speaks.

"Wait," Aomine says. "I thought Kise was dating Hana - ow!"

Kuroko withdrew his elbow from Aomine's stomach, face blank. "Aomine-kun needs to learn to read the mood."

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Nijimura find you on the roof one day when the whispers get too annoying. You lay out in the sun, your blazer behind your head. You can almost feel the irritation radiating off him like the rays of the sun.

He stands over you. "Skipping again, Hana?"

"Not on your team. Not your problem." You say without opening your eyes.

"So what? What kind of upperclassmen would I be if I let you just do whatever you want?" He nudges your bare legs, hard. "Stop being a brat. Go back to school and do something about Kise. He's moping and it's weird. He keeps getting mobbed in the halls."

You scowl. "Get Kuroko to do it."

Nijimura sighs. "Kuroko is busy."

" _I'm_ busy."

He snorts.

There's a quiet moment.

Finally you hear the rustle of fabric as he sits down. "So. You and Akashi, huh?"

You finally open your eyes. There's something in his voice… something you can't read in his tone. "Yeah."

"How'd that happen?"

You shrug. "He asked."

He looks up and you can't see his expression. "Just like that."

You look at him. Watch the way his shoulders tense. His back stays straight. His white-knuckled fists. "You're angry at me."

Nijimura hesitates a beat to long. "I'm not."

That was convincing. You raise one brow.

He - sighs, one long breath that drains the tension from his body. "Sometimes," he says, voice quiet enough the breeze almost carries it away. "It's like everything I want just… falls into your lap. Makes it hard to like you, Hana."

Inhale. Exhale. "You expecting an apology?"

"No!" Nijimura ran a hand through his hair. "It's just - I'm just being petty. Sorry, Hana. Forget I said anything."

 _You didn't asked for this._

The words are bitter, on your tongue, in your throat. Because - you didn't ask. Existing is so, so difficult. Your heart is still too loud to sleep sometimes.

People, gone. Places, gone. Your face.

All _g_ o _ne_.

Inhale. Exhale. Let it go.

You sigh. "Graduation in three weeks."

Nijimura takes the subject change with good grace. "Yeah. Akashi will do fine, even if I'm not here." He pauses.

"What?"

"The offer you gave me. Is it still open?"

You tilt your head. Offer?

Oh.

"You want the job?"

He crosses his legs. "I don't have any better offers; well, not legal ones."

"Alright. I'll set up a meeting for you."

He blinks. "What, just like that?"

You shrug. Life's too short to hold grudges.

He pushes himself to his feet, and holds out a hand to you.

You let him pull you up.

Nijimura ruffles your hair, smile on his face. "You're a good kid."

Scowling, you bat his hand away. "And you sound like an old man."

He laughs. "Respect your elders, you brat."

Three weeks pass in a blink, and then Nijimura is gone, diploma in hand. Your dad agrees to take him on a trail basis, but you don't have any doubts about Nijimura's work ethic. He'll be fine.

You spend the summer with Kasumi in America. Making connections. Making plans. Taking photographs.

It's fun. You feel lighter, younger.

Returning to Japan feels like putting on a shirt you outgrew a long time ago. You almost turn around and book another flight.

The passport is heavy in your bag.

You'll go back, you promise yourself while staring out the taxi window. Eyes on the horizon. You'll go back, and further still. All the places you never had a chance to see before.

For now, your third year at Teikou begins.

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

 **alright, i finally got my ass in gear and finished this thing. I deleted like five thousand words just to make this mess readable.**

 **UP NEXT: 11-111.**

 **questions** **? comments? criticisms? I read em all, don't be shy.**


	7. VII

The day Akashi changes is just like any other. In fact, you don't notice until he stops to speak to you after class. The first sign of it comes from the students around him. People bow and scrape to get out of his way. Faster than before, even. One girl catches his gaze and goes the color of old newspaper, before bolting away like a fawn spotted by a starving wolf.

Curious, you drift over to the door, only find Akashi standing there, hands tucked behind his back, polite smiles on his face, and a homicidal grace in his eyes.

You glance at the students, as they huddle together like doves as a hawk circles overhead.

What are they so scared of?

Red hair, placid expression, barely concealed contempt for the stupidity of the people around him. Somehow managing to politely ignore the whole room.

He looks like himself.

Just less subtle about it.

Akashi looks up, catches your eyes. "Hana."

One of his eyes glints in the light.

Gold.

It's like being pushed off ground you knew was crumbling, knew would fail sometime in the future. You never expected it to catch you so off-guard.

...So this is where it ends, huh?

"Something wrong?" Akashi asks.

You lean against him like he's your personal resting post, your front pressed to his, your arms draped over his shoulders like a living scarf. He doesn't flinch at taking your weight, or react much at all. "Hey, so. Your eye is gold. What's up with that?"

His smile is very polite, very homicidal, and very close to your throat. Someone behind you squeaks. "Nothing that you need to concern yourself with. I feel fine. Better than ever, in fact."

You tilt your head, close enough to count his eyelashes. "If you say so."

He hums and you feel it vibrate through your skull. "I do say so."

It's a little sad. You can feel time slipping through your hands, like trying to hold onto sand.

Akashi is fun. You might even call him a friend.

"What did you want, anyway?" You ask.

"I received two tickets to the Ai Yusuke gallery from one of my father's business associates. Would you like to go?"

The tone makes it clear that it''s not a question.

Ai Yusuke is a photographer you sometimes work with. Fairly good - not as good as you, but honestly, who was? He did babble something about some sort of award and made some sort of charity donation, blah blah blah. Should be interesting enough. If you're going to suffer through a crowd of people, it might as well be something you like.

You haven't met Akashi's father yet, but you know the places Akashi takes you are full of people who report back to him. Must be one of those things.

"Sorry, I have a thing that day." You say. "Can't get out of it."

You don't flinch when those eyes - one familiar red, one alien gold - meet yours. They're not pleased, and you feel the command in them.

You keep your face bland, unconcerned.

Why should you be? You do have something to do that day. It's a small job for a minor magazine that you weren't really interested in, but it's better than being forced into meeting Akashi senior.

More importantly.

Akashi ain't the boss of you.

Finally Akashi nods, gracious as a king conceding a favor and slips out of your hold. "I'll pick you up after school." It's a declaration of fact. Gravity pulls, the sun shines, Akashi Seijurou will pick you up after school.

You fold your arms, fingers tapping and you watch him walk away without waiting for your reply.

The end of middle school. That's how long you promised Akash, and now it feels like far too much.

You'll uphold your promise.

Beyond that, you don't have to be involved.

So you're won't be.

The photographs you take go bigger and bigger, and your life goes on. Offers start pouring in, and your time disappears. Most days your only contact with cannon is Akashi texting you for your whereabouts. Basketball drama takes up a very small percentage of your life, and you work hard to make it that way.

Like all good things, it doesn't last.

The day of 111-11 approaches like a freight train, and you don't get out of the way in time.

* * *

It feels strange to wear casual clothes around a school. Like the feeling of a clammy hand running up your spine. The day is hot, breezy, and suffocating inside the gym bleachers. You're on the lowest tier, just behind the Rakuzan bench.

Probably. You can't spot anyone you know among the players and both teams look the same to you.

What were the team colors again?

You lean back, cheap plastic chair squeaking, designer sunglasses (a gift from Kasumi) perched on your nose.

Honestly, the only reason you're here is your model got sick in the middle of the shoot. Fever, sweating, mumbling, the works. It got worse when you were around so you wrapped the whole thing up early. You snap a bubble, irritated. The rest of the crew kept giving you pitying looks for some reason. Usually they just avoid you, and you're not enjoying the change.

Whatever. You adjust the sights on your camera. It's one of the professional grade ones you normally don't bring to school. It'd be a waste of time to go home just to drop it off, though.

Your things tend to vanish at school.

You bring the camera to your eye, slowly adjust the focus. A sea of dark hair and uniforms, the yellow court, the white light. It's natural that your eye is drawn to the only contrasting point.

Soft pink hair and a teal sweater. With her head down and her back to you, Momoi doesn't look real, like a watercolor person on a black background. Her hair catches the light and holds it.

Click.

You blink and it's like a spell has broken. Sound rushes back in. You glance down at the hands on the camera like they don't belong to you, like they have a mind of their own.

When you look up a pair of pink eyes catches your own.

For one small eternity, your heart feels quiet. Something expands your chest, and you don't dare move for fear of it spilling over.

Then Momoi smiles and you can breath again. She waves you over.

You vault over the low railing in front of the bleachers and drop to seven or so feet to the ground; you land on you feet, camera in one hand, sunglasses in the other.

 _Stairs are for losers._

You make your way over, stare at one of the second string members until, face pale, he moves, and you sit next to Momoi.

"I almost didn't recognize you, Hana-chan. Your clothes are so cute!" Momoi says.

You glance down. It's a simple thing dark red shirt Kise outgrew, a bomber jacket and a pair of artfully ripped jeans. "My older sister thinks my fashion sense is a crime against nature. She sends me clothes from america."

"Really? How cool!" She tugs at the fabric of your jacket. "I haven't seen you around lately. Akashi didn't mention that you'd come around today."

"It's a surprise." You say. "Had a thing. Took care of the thing. It's all good."

"Always so articulate, Hana-chan." Momoi says with a laugh that makes her eyes light up. "Akashi is still getting the team meeting done, if you wanted to wait for him."

"Team meeting? Why are you out here?"

She blinks. "What?"

"Well, you're part of the team right? Why are you out here?"

Momoi's mouth opens and closes.

You lean forward, hand on head and look up at her. You're not blind. Without Momoi's dedication, they wouldn't have much of an information network.

Akashi knows that.

Momoi clears her throat and shuffles the stack of papers on her lap. "Well. Thank you, Hana-chan. I'm not that important though, and Akashi has everything handled so I decided to check you the rest of the team and basket-ball basket-ball blah blah sports-"

You stop listening in favor of watching the sway of her hair. The shape of her lips. The tips of her ears are a delicate shade of pale pink. It makes your fingers itch. For the first time, you don't just want to look. To record.

You want to touch.

You study her heart-melting face, her pale skin, her cotton candy hair, her pale eyes, sparking with thought. Linger over her soft looking lips, dark and - moving?

 _Um._

"Hana-chan, are you listening?"

You blink and drag your eyes away from her mouth. "Sorry. You lost me."

Momoi frowns. "Are you sure you're feeling alright, Hana-chan? Akashi will understand if you have to go home."

Or right. Your boyfriend.

You wave your hand like you're brushing off her concern. "No, it's fine. I'm just a little out of it. Go on."

She's clearly not fooled, by the look she gives you. "...Alright. Tell me if you start feeling sick, okay? I have some honey lemon slices."

You clear your throat. "Nah. I'm fine."

"If you say so. Anyway, I was talking with the other managers and -"

She describes gathering and analyzing data, and you have to tear your eyes from her hair three more times.

What the hell, brain?

A flash of red out of the corner of your eye. You don't flinch when a possessive hand finds your shoulder.

You lean back, looking into Akashi's face upside down. "Yo, Akashi."

Akashi raises an eyebrow. "Hana. I thought you were busy today?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Momoi's shoulders go tense.

You flash him a smile. "I finished early and thought I'd be moral support, or whatever."

"Oh?"

"I'm supporting Momoi. It's so unfair to have her do all this work alone. Shame on you, Captain."

Momoi blinks.

You give her a wide eyed, innocent look.

 _Play along._

She blinks again, and smiles at Akashi too. Her shoulders ease down, with you between her and him. "That's right. I hope you don't mind me borrowing Hana-chan for a while?"

Akashi seems more amused than irritated. His gold eye is stark against red hair. "So long as you return her, Satsuki."

Momoi flashes him a pretty, perfect smile. "Of course, captain."

It doesn't reach her eyes.

You tilt your head.

How long has Momoi known that something is slightly... off about this Akashi?

A long shadow stretches across the bench.

"Akachin, Kisechin is being - why are _you_ here? Go away." Murasakibara says.

"Wishing my boyfriend luck, duh." You say. Then, just to be obnoxious, you reach out for Akashi's hand.

He lets you have it.

You brush your lips against the back of it like he's a fairy tale princess, or a king. You don't look away from Murasakibara's eyes as you do it.

He gags. "So. Gross."

"Don't you have a game to slack off in?"

"I'll _crush_ you -"

A blur of yellow and black barrels into Murasakibara's back, and he barely shifts. "Ow, what are you made of? Stone? Anyway, Akashicchi don't listen to a thing he says, he started it - Hana!"

A prickle of discomfort inches up your neck. "Yo, Kise."

Kise stares, still hanging onto Murasakibara like a blonde limpet. You can't read his expression. "Hanacchi -"

The referee blows an ear piercing note, cutting off whatever Kise was going to say.

Murasakibara glowers down at you.

Akashi keeps smiling, peaceful. "Come, Atsushi. Kise."

Murasakibara clicks his tongue, but he goes.

You roll your eyes. What a big baby.

Kise is still staring at you, eyes reflective as gold and twice as opaque.

"Kise." Akashi says, tone serene.

He jerks around like Akashi pulled some invisible string. "I'm here, I'm here!"

You keep your hand still, not matter how much they want to shake.

Momoi's eyes flick between you and Kise's retreating back, but she doesn't say whatever she's thinking. Instead she sighs. "Why do the two of you hate each other so much? I swear it came out of nowhere."

You blink. "Who? Kise?"

"No! Murasakibara, of course."

"Why..." You lean back and look at the ceiling, the lights create spots of white on your vision.

Why do you hate him?

"His stupid face." You decide.

The apathy on it.

The _familiarity_.

Murasakibara is you, on days when you don't want to be you. Murasakibara is proud. Talented. He could do anything, could be anything - but that's not what he wants.

He wants to sleep. To eat. To be left alone.

When he dies, he'll enjoy the dark.

Momoi stares at you. "T-that's it?"

You shrug. "Isn't that enough?"

Momoi's face does something complicated, before a helpless smile spreads across her face. "You're not at all like I imagined you, Hana-chan."

You examine your nails. "I have layers. Like an onion."

She laughs and it's like a spark jumps from her mouth to your stomach, setting off a wave that shivers up your whole body and centers in your chest, your heart.

You press a hand to your heart, like that'll stop it.

Did you catch something from the model?

You catch a flash of blue out of the corner of your eye.

Kuroko is difficult to focus on, even normally. In the middle of the crowd, you have to concentrate to keep your eyes on him.

"Why's Kuroko in the stands?" You ask. Have you ever seen him anywhere but on the bench?

Momoi lights up like a lamp. "He is? Where?"

You point. "Right there."

Her nose scrunched as she tries follow your eye-line. "I don't see him." She sighs. "Akashi made him sit out today. Then he disappeared. I don't know why he didn't just join me."

You raise an eyebrow.

She bites her lips and whispers, lips almost brushing your cheek. She smells like mint and something floral. "He got hurt in the last game. Kise didn't tell you?"

Kise doesn't talk to you much anymore.

You look back at the stands - but Kuroko's gone, lost in a sea of last minute arrivals. There are more people than you'd thought there be for a middle school game.

At first, the game is the same as any other. You lose interest as soon as the ball touches the ground, paying more attention to Momoi and your camera then the teams.

The atmosphere is of the team is … strange. Almost relaxed.

Ten, twenty, thirty - the score climbs and every point drives the uneasiness a little deeper. All of the miracles look bored. Murasakibara, shadow long and dark, knocks the ball out of another teen's hands, but he doesn't chase it. Aomine snatches it, drives up toward the center with Kise close on his heels. Almost like the two of them are competing, rather than the actual opposing team.

Murasakibara yawns.

Kise passes to Midorima, who makes yet another basket. The swish of the net is loud over the nearly silent crowd.

Akashi's gold eye glints in the harsh lights.

You eyes flick to the exit. No one is paying attention to you, to fixed on the trainwreck happening on the court. You don't want to watch the crash and burn of a group of friends, people you know and sometimes even like. You slide on your sunglasses, stow away your camera, and stand.

Something tugs on your jacket, and you look down.

Momoi's fingers are curled tight in you blazer and her eyes are worried on Aomine's rampage across the court. Her teeth catch her lips. "Dai-kun…"

You sit back down.

She never lets go, and she never looks at you.

Through it all, Akashi keeps his polite smile. His blank eyes, one red, one gold, both distant, never once looked at the scoreboard.

And then it's over.

You don't see Kuroko anywhere at all.

* * *

You sit on the bench, in the empty stadium bleachers.

Momoi is long gone, with the rest of the team.

The squeak of sneakers on the court. You feel Akashi's eyes on you before you look up.

You give a half-hearted salute. "Hey."

Akashi sits next to you, nearly on top of your legs. "You didn't go with the team." He takes your hand and turns it over in his own, like it's a book in a language he's fluent in. His smile is gone for once; he seems like his old self. "Are you done avoiding me?"

You consider the question. "Yeah. I think so."

It's already too late. The end is on the horizon and you're tired of being left alone to your thoughts.

You're fifteen (again). Middle school is almost done. Spending the last of it with Akashi isn't so bad.

You lean onto one hand, watch the sinking sun paint the whole room red and gold. Your skin banded in the colors of the boy next to you.

Akashi leans into you. "No apology?"

You snort.

He smiles. It's not a nice expression. "I do enjoy how forward you are. What did you think of the game today?"

"It was certainly… something."

"Not going to praise me? How cruel, Hana."

"Do I not sound amazed?" You ask, voice at it's most deadpan.

He chuckles. "Feeling sorry for the defeated?"

Akashi is like a black hole. The center and pillar of his own personal universe. Anything not strong enough to hold steady gets pulled in, and they don't get back out.

Are you strong enough?

You laugh. "Have I ever been sympathetic to anyone?"

Akashi smiles again, this time a touch realer; he nudged your shoulder almost like old Akashi did. "No. That's why you are almost my equal."

It's an interesting way to spend your last year, at the very least.

"Only almost?"

"Perhaps if you actually put in some effort, you might be one day."

You pretend to consider that. "Nah. Sounds boring."

He stands, pulls you up by your still connected hands. "Let's go. I've made reservations at an italian place."

You let him pull you up, walk together but apart. "Good. I'm starving."

You don't notice the slow slide into quiet until it Kise comes home early from a modeling job one night. You enter the door and there Kise is, just sitting at the kitchen counter. Once, this wouldn't have surprised you. Once, you would have waited until he returned from practice to eat together.

Now, the two of you lock eyes and you don't know what to say. The words just - won't come.

Kise turns the mug around in his hand. "Hanacchi is late. Akashicchi took you out for dinner?" He finally says.

"...Yeah."

Kise nods and turns the mug in his hands again.

You open your mouth - and nothing comes out.

You don't know how to talk to him anymore.

"Do you love him?" Kise asks.

It takes on long second to understand the words, for you to register the meaning.

"Do I… what?"

Love _Akashi_?

That sounds as dangerous.

Kise ducks his head, but that doesn't stop you from seeing the blush spreading up his face. "...Nevermind. It's a stupid question."

The scent of hot chocolate fills the silence. "Is something wrong?" You ask.

He starts, looks up. "Oh. No, just… thinking." He… lies.

Kise is lying.

To _you._

Kise is lying to you.

It's startles the both of you, because his eyes go wide. Go startled.

But he doesn't take it back and he doesn't say anything else.

You hesitate in the doorway, waiting for - something. Nothing else comes. Your hands fist in your pockets. "...Goodnight." You say.

Kise opens his mouth, and then shuts it. He clears his throat. "Night."

* * *

You flip toss the book up in the air, whistling some pop song you heard on the radio this morning. The photo-shoot with Kiss, an american candy company is tomorrow. You're looking forward to it. It'll get you out of the house for a while at least.

A flash of blue stops you just short of running headlong into Kuroko.

The two of you pause. The air is thick with something you hesitate to call awkwardness. It's too prickly for that. Too heavy. Too dark.

"You look like shit." You say.

He does. His hair hasn't been combed. Dark circles live under his eyes, and his normally pale skin is milk white.

His eyes are flat disks set in his head. "Hana-san is quite rude."

You shrug and walk past him. "True. Later, dude."

"Did you _know_?"

The words halt you. The chatter of students drifts down the hall, somewhere far away. "About what?

"The game." You hear the scuff of shoes on the floor. The rustle of clothes. His blank eyes on your back. "You were on the bench. Either you're heartless as you seem, or you already knew."

You tap the book on your thigh. "Why can't it be both?"

The sun still shines but the temperature drops to sub zero.

"Akashi told you. What he was planning."

"Not really." Future knowledge due to reincarnation probably won't go over well here.

A cold hand grabs your wrist and pulls you around, facing him.

It's most emotion you've ever seen in him.

His eyes _burn_.

Is this what Kise sees in him?

The thought almost escape out of your mouth, but you catch it, pull it back into the dark where it belongs. You refuse to give Kuroko, of all people, that part of you. That pathetic, _childish_ hurt.

"You could have said something." He says, flat, hard. "Akshi listens to you, you could have -"

"And why," You say. " Would I do that?"

Your wrist aches. Your mind burns.

"Empathy? Basic human decency?" Kuroko glares at you. "Perhaps that's too much to ask. I don't even know if you're half a person. Are you even capable of emotion?"

The words hit you harder than a physical blow.

How dare he.

How _dare_ he.

Isn't the source of your problems speaking to you? Isn't it his fault that Kise doesn't listen to you anymore? To stuck on his stupid infatuation to come home, leaving you alone in that empty house, where you slowly forget how to be a person? Nothing but the dark, the peace. The drawer full of knives in the kitchen.

It would be so easy.

"Maybe," you say, quiet as him. "You should ask yourself that same question. Isn't Akashi your friend? Why didn't you see this coming, Kuroko? Why didn't you stop him?"

He flinches. Drops your wrist like it burned him, takes one step back. "I-"

You're already turning away, hands aching with unspent violence. Something bitter fills your mouth. You want to break his blank mask with more than just words. You want to show him the inside of your head, all the sharp things you keep to yourself.

 _But._

Kise loves him.

So you bury the rage back into the black. It's hard. It's the hardest thing you've ever done, outside of staying alive, but you unclench your fists. Straighten out your blazer and tie. Smooth out your face into the normal expression of bored blankness. Indifference comes like breathing.

You turn back to him and give him a nod. "If that's all, Kuroko, I have a book to return."

It's not a question.

Kuroko's face is still white, but he inhales. You watch the same thing happen on his face - the anger drains out him like a wave pulling back from the shore. He returns your nod, cool and polite. "Ryugawa-san."

You walk away. The sound of his shoes clicking against the tiles grows fainter in opposite direction.

* * *

You and Kise move around each other in a familiar dance. Clubs let out the last week of the school and you let yourself relax, drain the tension. You don't talk, but you wait for him to get done with his morning routine.

He pushes his hair back and gives you a startled smile. For once it reaches his eyes. "Ready?"

You study him. Think about the passport in your bag. Your half packed room.

If this is the last time you see his face, you want to remember it.

"Smile," You say.

Old habits die hard, and Kise gives the camera a blinding grin.

 _Click._

Kise blinks the flash out of his eyes and laughs. "You haven't changed at all, Hana."

No. You haven't.

You keep that bitter thought behind your teeth. Offer him your fist.

He bumps it.

The walk to school is long and quiet - but companionable. You don't feel that prickly sense of loss, that rejection. Right now, you and he are the same.

The two of you part into the separate classes, still without speaking. The old familiarity is still strained; he's changed to much to fit in with someone like you who lacks the capacity for it.

The crowd shifts around you like a school of fish around a shark. Eyes, hostile, follow you.

You glance up and catch the eye of a girl a year in the year below you. She flinches back, the sneer falling off her face. She looks vaguely familiar - one of the would-be bullies who tried to make you as pathetic as they are.

You snort and turn away.

The sooner you can leave people like her behind, the better.

The graduation ceremony is long and dull in the way all endings are. Tears flow, but not yours.

All you feel is relief.

You're done.

 _Finally_ , you're done.

After the ceremony is over, people break into groups. Parents and children crying with each other, friends tearfully promise to keep in touch, students thanking teachers. You drift along the edges of the crowd like a ghost. No one approaches you to take their picture, despite to camera in your hands.

You wave half heartedly to the blindingly beautiful Kise family, gathered around Kise. Neither of your parents are in the country right now, and you're glad. You don't have to pretend to feel anything about graduating.

"Hana."

You glance over your shoulder, face blank. "Akashi."

His school uniform is made of sharp lines and precise angles, a contrast to you half buttoned shirt and undone tie. His eyes sweep over your clothes. "My father is here."

It's half warning, half order.

You've never met Akashi senior, despite three or so years of fake dating.

Breaking that streak would be a shame.

"Is that so." You say.

"Please dress a little more appropriately. I do not care, but he will."

"Welp." You cross your hands behind your head. "It's been fun. Later, Akashi."

He turns to look at you. "Pardon me?"

You shrug. "I'm done. Middle school is over, and I'm not going to high school. Doubt dear old dad wants you dating a drop out. See you later. Or not. Whichever."

Akashi tilts his head. "Of course you're going to highschool. Collage as well."

You raise your eyebrow.

His voice is very calm. Very sure. This is how the world shall be, forever and ever, amen. "You will be attending Rakuzan with me. You never mentioned a preference, so I arranged it."

He... _arranged_ it.

You hum.

Akashi nods once, with satisfaction. "You didn't apply to any of the other prominent schools in the area. If you have a preference for one that's not to far away, that would be fine. As long as it's a fitting place for a future member of the Akashi family." His phone beeped and he glanced at it. "The car has arrived. I've made arrangements at a nice restaurant, in celebration. I will formally introduce you to my father as my fiance. We'll have to make a stop and get you properly outfitted."

 _Fiance._

It's like the whole last few months snap into focus.

Akashi, this new Akashi, is used to the best. Having the best things, winning the best awards, leading the best people.

Akashi has decided on you, because you are the best.

You didn't understand.

Something cold creeps up your spine, staring at this boy who you might've called a friend.

Akashi the Emperor has no friends.

He has _subjects_.

The emperor turns to look at you, and his gold eye glints in the light. There's no concern on his face; there's only a small smile. "Something wrong, Hana?"

You look down at your empty hands, clench them into fists. Your throat aches and your voice comes out quiet. "No. Nothing's wrong."

"Come, then. My father is not a patient man."

You shake your head, shove your hands in your uniform jacket. "Goodbye, Akashi. It was fun."

 _Too late now._

Five months too late, the loss stings.

His brow creases. The smile fades. "Hana, please stop being difficult. There's really no -"

"Akashi." You meet his eyes and you do not flinch. "I'm not attending Rakuzan. I'm not going to Kyoto. I'm not meeting your father. This is a breakup."

His look of incomprehension would be funny, if it wasn't so strange.

Akashi didn't _get_ confused.

If you had any room for it, you might feel some regret. If you were half the person you used to be, you might have stayed just for how lost he looks in this moment.

Akashi will have to explain to his father that his fiance broke up with him. The pressure will mount yet again.

You're not that kind of person anymore.

Selfishness is all you have left, most days.

A long black limousine pulls up while Akashi is still trying to find the words he wants.

"Your ride is here." You say.

Akashi stares at you, eyes like knives. He doesn't move.

A hard look settles over his face and you can see the moment he knows that there's nothing he can offer you that you can't get yourself.

What makes you a perfect fiance also makes you _untouchable_. Your family is equal to his in power and influence, your skills and interests are in different places, and you don't care about reputation.

There's no lever in the world that can move you.

"You will regret this." Akashi says, like an old time prophet speaking the will of god. "Without me, you will amount to nothing. I can provide you with anything you wish."

You look up at the sky, and the smile on your face is bitter.

What you wish...

Peace, in the dark.

Raising one hand over your shoulder, you give him a single wave. "Goodbye Akashi."

* * *

"You have everything you need, Hana? Passport? Work visa? My address?" Kasumi's voice is grainy over the phone, half anxious, half teasing. Rain pours outside. Thunder rattles the windows.

You roll your eyes, phone between shoulder and ear, careful not to drip on it. You already went out and got some nice shots. They'll go up on your blog tonight. "For the third time, yes. It's not my first flight."

Her pout is audible. "I'm allowed to be worried about my delicate baby sister."

 _Delicate._

Riiight.

"Anyway," Kasumi says. "Where's Ryouta? I don't hear him being a brat in the background. I thought you two were joined at the hip?"

You don't blink, no matter how much your hands clench.

Kasumi can smell weakness.

"The basketball starters had a meeting." You say, voice even.

"And... you didn't tag along?"

"Not a starter."

She laughs. "Like that's ever stopped you before."

"I may have also broke up with their captain today. So."

You doubt Akashi wants you there.

You doubt you want to be anywhere near Akashi.

"...That's red-head, right? Nice."

You roll your eyes.

The doorbell is almost lost under another peal of thunder, lightning carrying your shadow to the far wall.

Kise? Already?

"I gotta go. I think the meeting is over," You say while you drop the cleaning rag on the table. "And Kise's going to need the bath running in weather like this."

Kasumi laughs. "You spoil him too much. Alright, stay safe. I'll see you in a few days." She kisses the phone theatrically.

"See you."

You open up the door. "You're late, Kise-"

It's not Kise.

All of your cheer drains, and you feel your face go blank.

Kuroko stares at you with dead eyes. He's dripping wet, like he spent the last three hours in a shower with all his clothes on. The look on his face is - empty. Not blank, but desolate. Desperate. "Hello, Ryugawa-san. May I have a moment of your time?"

You lean back, arms crossed. Say nothing.

"It's about Kise." He says.

"...Come in"

He comes in follows you down the hall. His steps are silent. It's like he's not there, like something made of cold air and dripping water instead of flesh and blood. You move to the kitchen with him trailing after you like a ghost.

There's a clock on the wall in the kitchen. The ticking dominates the silence.

Even looking at his hair dripping wet and his hands transparent, Kuroko looks like he can stand there waiting for eternity.

More statue than flesh, more cold than boy.

You don't offer him any food. You don't do anything but meet his eyes.

His eyes burn with an emotion you have trouble placing. He glances at the walls - covered in photos. Most of Kise, glittering, grinning, happy. Kuroko's hands go tight for one breath.

And then it clicks.

 _Hate._

Kuroko hates you.

You tilt your head. "Why are you here, Kuroko?"

Blue eyes stay steady. His hands smooth out. "I am a shadow."

"I know that." You say.

Tension leaves his shoulders, but his face is still wary in that blank way . "The generation of miracles has fallen apart. They don't love basketball anymore. I've tried to talk to them." Her breaks your stare to look down. "They... don't listen to me anymore. Not even Aomine. Not even Kise."

Kise, who loves Kuroko like a man possessed.

The worst part of this is that you're not surprised. Even without your past life, you would have noticed the dimming like in their eyes, the apathy spreading like poison in their blood.

It lives in your head, after all.

 _Tick._

Your heart sinks, sinks, sinks. The passport in your pocket glows like a hot coal. "And why should I care-"

"I am only a shadow. Without a light, I am weak and useless. Ryugawa-san is one of the lights. Please." Kuroko knelt, and his hair brushed the ground. His voice is raw. "Help me defeat the generations of miracles."

And there it is.

You want to drag the words out of the air.

You want to push him back out the door, lock it in his face.

You want to knock his teeth in.

You were _done_.

All your ties with the cannon were cut. There was a plane ticket waiting for you. A whole world out there to explore.

 _Tock._

"Shut up. Just… shut up for a second." You close your eyes. Thirteen years of avoidance and now this. It feels like giving up at the last moment. "You want me to help you. You've never even seen me _play_."

"Akashi-kun said you would have talent."

"That's taking a lot on faith, Kuroko!"

Kuroko's tiny smile is the bitterest thing you've ever seen. "Akashi-kun is absolute.".

Kagami exists and Kuroko doesn't know that.

The thought freezes you

Kuroko doesn't know that his light is waiting for him, so Kuroko went to the person that he knew had the potential. Even if he hates them. Hates you. Even if he has to bow his head.

 _But._

What if Kagami doesn't exist at all?

What if you're not the only change in cannon?

You grit your teeth against the image of thirteen year old Kise, laughing, proud and happy for the first time.

This boy, so horribly sincere, who put the smile there.

Without Kise, there's nothing keeping you in japan. Your parents have already approached you about moving abroad — bigger clients, better cases.

But.

Always, always but.

Whatever happens between you and Kise, no matter how you part, he will always be your brother.

Akashi saw Kise's potential. Midorima and Murasakibara are his friends. Aomine gave Kise drive, gave him something to aim for.

Kuroko makes him happy.

"…One condition." You say, each word heavy as a stone in your mouth.

Kuroko's head snaps up. "Ryugawa-san?"

"Shut up and listen to me." You snap.

He flinches.

 _Inhale._

 _Exhale._

Let the irritation go. Let it cool, let it end. You've been caught, and it's no ones fault but your own.

 _Anything, anything for Kise._

Even pairing up with the very person to took him away for good.

"I will be your light. You have one year." You say, without emotion. "Do we understand each other?"

Lightning flashes outside, illuminating his pale skin. His blue eyes.

"Yes." He says, and offers you his hand. "I think we do."

Such a small thing.

You're so _tired_.

You take his hand.

* * *

 **People have been asking me if this is gay**

 **which. yes. this a gay story. i guess i have to make it more obvious? hana is bi with a preference for women. kise is really really gay. who knows about kuroko (i do. i know).**

 **i love everyone who reviews, even if i never reply. my life is kind of hectic, so thank you for your patience.**

 **this chapter is 2500 words longer than normal to make up for the wait lol**


	8. VIII

**VII**

* * *

Your desk chair creaks when you lean back and cross your arms, away from the cell phone. It's a simple, sleek thing. A gift from your mother for keeping your grades up. Your curtains are half open and gold sunlight pools on your floor, it's hands trail across your half packed room. The phone won't bite you, but it seems to radiate an aura of certain doom.

It beeps, annoyed. _Again_.

Ah, yes. _That_ doom.

You don't need to look at it to know that it's Kasumi again. A sigh escapes.

So maybe sending a text with 'can't come maybe next year' was one of your dumber ideas.

But you can't speak to her. Can't speak to anyone about this, because they love you. If you pick up the phone, she'll try to pursuance you to come anyway. You can picture her pouting into the end of the line.

And you - you _want_ to be coaxed. Your passport sings a siren song from inside your desk drawer, your bags are already packed, and upgrading your tickets to go today is child's play. It would be so easy to just _go_. Forget Kise, and Kuroko, and the whole situation. They'd solve it on their own.

Kise would forgive you, if he ever found out.

Except you promised.

You are many things. A liar isn't one of them.

You look over your room; the photos on the walls, the unmade bed, the shelves overflowing with books and you let the yourself think something you try to forget most of the time.

None of it... matters.

It makes you feel cold. Clear.

The chair scrapes across the floor as you stand. Grab one of the larger backpacks from your closet and start throwing clothes in it. You take three outfits and extra underwear, a book, some cash. The backpack is still half empty when you throw it over your shoulders.

In the light of the room, you lean forward. Your hand hovers over your camera collection. The plastic cases are painted gold.

Finally, you let your hand fall. It's too much of a temptation. Too much of a risk. You don't have a lot of willpower on the best of days. Instead, you turn away, grab a sweater. Pull on a hat and scarf.

Open the door, leave the buzzing phone on the desk. You head out into the kitchen. It's dim and cold, the large windows shut, their white curtains pulled closed. It feels far colder. The light in the hallway is broken and you can barely make out the shape of the door.

You place your hand on the knob - and hesitate. Look over your shoulder at the bright kitchen, the living room beyond. Kise's closed door. Your open one. It looks familiar, and full of light.

Your house keys gleam on the table beside the door. Glittering in the light like a promise.

No turning back.

Your breath out and your spine stays straight. You open the door and your eyes stay dry. You step out into the cold and your mind looks forward, because you refuse to regret your actions.

The click of the door locking behind you sounds final.

* * *

You take the train to the business area. Your red beanie hat stands out among the sleek black suits of the salesmen who flow along the streets in a chaotic flood of humanity. The air has the crispness of a new thousand dollar bill, the kind that stings your lungs.

You stop in front of one building and look up and up and _up_.

It's all chrome and glass, shining even brighter than gold; you have to blink away the spots it leaves on your vision. The top reflects the setting sun like a mirror, impossible to tell where the top ends and the sky begins.

This is a place where money lives and breaths.

 _Mashiro Inc._

You sigh. "Might as well get this over with."

The inside is just as tastefully rich as the outside. The main lobby is set out like a scene from a movie; glass and warm wood and not a single thing out of place. The workers move along like seasoned actors, without a single stumble in their lines. Until they spot you. You're like an adlib that no one knows how to react to.

You ignore them, glancing around until you find the elevators. You plow your way through the crowd, dismiss the odd looks you're getting as a teenager wearing ripped jeans, an oversized sweater and a bright red hat.

It's been five years since you set foot in the heart of your father's empire.

You remember where the elevators are.

The man at the desk gives you an up and down, and his lips curl. "I think you're in the wrong place. Do you need directions?"

Ah.

One of _those_ assholes.

It's been years since you had to deal with your father's employees not recognizing you. He must be a toady of some sort. All of the important ones have been to the top floors and see your dad's... well.

He'd recognize you.

You dismiss him entirely in favor of patting down your pockets.

Where did it..ah there it is.

"Excuse me -" Whatever the secretary is going to say cuts off. He stares at the plastic laminated card you dangle between his eyes, so close his they cross.

You see the moment the large black type registers.

 **MASHIRO HANAKO**

 **VIP**

 **UNLIMITED PASS**

Your father's signature under it like a declaration, bold and black.

Your twelve year old face scowling out of the picture. You have no desire to be in front of the camera, instead of behind.

The man's skin goes sallow and he blinks once. "Th- there's no way that's real."

You take the card and his hand, turn it over, put the card in it. Face the obvious barcode upwards, so he'll get the hint.

He stares at it like a live snake somehow made it's way into his grasp.

"Sometime today, please."

Robotically, he scans the card. Behind him the elevator doors slide up with a cheerful ding. He closes his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mashiro-sama." He says, voice remarkably even.

You take the card back, tuck it into your jeans.

"I'm home." You say.

* * *

You lean against the elevator wall and watch the numbers tick up. The very, very top is a ten minute ride, because the only thing Yuya Mashiro likes more than his family and making money, is heights. It's how he met Kise's father (who is a pilot) in the first place.

The wide hallway to your father's office is decorated with massive pictures, easily as tall as you, kept in gilded frames. Or maybe they're actually made of gold. Yuya has no chill when it comes to you or Mom. Your mother sharp eyes peer down from one side, dark hair in it's normal bob.

The other side is far more annoying.

They're all of you.

The first one you see, stepping out of the elevator, is one month old you with a disgruntled look on your tiny baby face. Age five, age nine, age twelve - one for each year of your life. You walk down the hallway under the bored stares of your past selves. It's easy to see what they'd say to you if they could speak.

 _How stupid. You actually got caught up in this?_

You reach the end and pause just before the door. It looks like solid water, liquid in the way expensive, polished wood is. The last in the line before the end. You glance up at the latest portrait of you, still wearing they teikou uniform. Hair just brushing your shoulders, fringe hanging in front of your eyes. There's always a split second of incomprehension when you see your own face, a moment of looking at an average japanese girl. A stranger scowling out of the frame.

You brush your hair out of your eyes. It's getting a little long.

Unlike the hallway leading to it, your father's office is a large room with very little decoration. What there is, is hideously expensive of course, but the main feature of the room is the large, floor to ceiling window behind his polished wood desk. The tokyo skyline it's own, breathless decoration.

Standing behind it, Mashiro Yuya is speaking into a thin phone. He's young for the CEO of a global company - barely in his forties, with thick black hair slicked back and a pretty, vaguely annoyed face reflected in the glass. "I'm telling you that I don't have time for it this week, I'm having dinner with my wife - _yes._ Yes, fine, that's good enough for now. Okay. I'll see you in three weeks then. Have your people set it up with mine. Sure, sure. I'll see you later."

Mashiro Yuya is a razor of a man, a sharp contrast to your mother's steady, calm river. He fairly buzzes with suppressed energy - his jaw, his eyes, his mouth. Everything about him demands you be fast, faster. Or you'll get left behind.

You clear your throat.

"I said to halt all appointments, Shuuzo." Yuya says without looking away from the window.

"Dad." You say. "Hey."

Yuya's reflection freezes. Your eyes meet in the glass his wide, yours a little sheepish.

You wave.

Yuya is halfway across the room before your hand is halfway up, his fancy chair is still spinning when he reaches you. Then - bam.

Impact.

It's been a year since you saw him in the flesh. He still smells like ink and cologne as he sweeps you up into a tight hug.

Your arms stay at your side.

Yuya holds you for three long heart beats, then pulls back and looks at you, a helpless smile spread over his face. "Look at how _tall_ you are. And how pretty, just like your mother!"

He loves you, so you don't point out the lie. Your looks are a solid five out of ten, while Ryugawa Kimiko is an eleven. "Thanks."

The word falls of your tongue, a marble made of awkward instead of glass. It's all you can do to stop a grimace from crossing your face. It's hard to talk to Yuya face to face, harder still breath through the sour taste of guilt both your parents inspire.

 _He loves me._

 _He loves me._

 _He_ loves _me._

Maybe if you repeat it enough, you'll _care_.

You force a smile. "I was in the neighborhood. Thought I'd drop by. I had some stuff to talk you about."

His smile goes giddy. "Of course Hana-chan! Anything you need, just say the word."

You drop your gaze down at your bag and take the school paperwork . "I need you to sign this." You say.

He takes the paper and raises an eyebrow at the name over the top. "Seirin Highschool? I thought you were going to America with Kasumi?"

You shrug, though the motion probably looks as fake as it feels. "Plans change."

And Yuya doesn't say anything. He only nods once, and signs the papers. "I'll have an apartment set up near by. It's too far from your old old one. Speaking of, how is Ryouta doing? I haven't seen him since his birthday. Plus that boyfriend of yours - the Akashi boy, was it? When will I get to meet him?"

You shrug again. "School is boring, Kise's fine, and I broke up with Akashi."

A tremendous crash interrupted whatever he was going to say next.

You look over your shoulder, and see the real reason you came in the doorway.

Nijimura is staring at you, a tea set in pieces at his feet. Tea spread out in a slow wave. His face is pale. "You broke up with _Akashi_?"

Oh thank god; a distraction.

You raise an hand. "Yo, Nijimura."

Yuya pinches the bridge of his nose. "That will be coming out of your paycheck, Shuuzo."

Nijimura looked down for the first time. "Uh. Sorry?" He glances up. "I'll clean it up."

"Shuuzo."

The look of reluctance on Nijimura's face was almost comical. "I'll... go get someone else to clean up, because I'm your assistant and not a janitor."

Your dad gave a proud nod. "Well done."

"I need to talk to you." You say. "Later."

You see the way Nijimura's eyes flick from you to Yuya. Then back to you.

Whatever he sees makes his eyes go narrow. His face blanks and he glances back at your dad. The corner of his mouth turns down. "...Okay."

Yuya waits until he's out of the room to give you a bland look.

You ignore it. "I'm borrowing him for a month." You tell the room at large.

"A month? Hana, he's in a very delicate place in his training. That much time might have some backslide into bad habits."

You sigh inwardly.

Let the negotiations begin.

Your mouth turns into a pout and you blink your eyes shiny enough to distract him.

Because he's a businessman, you don't come out unscathed. He comes away with three visits in the next year, a skype chat with your mom on her birthday - _at_ least _a half an hour long, Hana-chan_ \- and he gets to buy you your next three cameras.

You get off easy, because he's your father. Still, you feel like you've been scraped raw by sandpaper. _No one_ out deals Mashiro Yuya.

Yuya's phone beeps twice and you m

ake your escape.

"I have to get going." You say, heft the bag back on your back. "Places to go, people to see."

"So soon?" His disappointment grates across your spine, sets your teeth on edge. "You just got here."

You shrug and place a scrap of paper on his desk. "Give that to Nijimura for me. Please."

"...Of course. Of course, I will." His hands smooth out his already perfect tie. "Don't be a stranger, my dear. You know that you're always welcome here."

"I know." You don't look at him, because you don't need to. The expression on his face is the same every time talks to you. Bewilderment. Hurt. Most heartbreaking of all, acceptance.

A wave over you shoulder, and you shut the door behind you. Only then do you slump against it, exhausted. Forehead to the cold wood.

It'll be fine.

Inhale. Exhale. Straighten up. Put your hands in your pockets, keep your face bored and blank. Reach for your indifference; the vast well of apathy that keeps you breathing on bad days.

* * *

 _Swish._

The ball enters the net, rebounds into your hands and you take the shot again.

 _Swish._

 _Swish._

 _Swish._

How can anyone find this fun? Each clean shot makes your eyes unfocus. Your mind wanders, let the body make shot after shot on automatic.

You're _bored_.

Only three hundred and sixty four days to go.

"This is nostalgic." Nijimura says from behind you.

The basketball court is quiet this time of night. It's one that you and Nijimura would meet at when neither of you could sleep.

You turn, hold out your hand. Catch the rebound without looking. "You sound like an old man. Yuya rubbing off on you?"

"I hate you." Nijimura glares at you, bags under his eyes. He's taller by a couple inches, wearing clothes that even Kise would approve of. His sneakers are white and nearly brand new."Your father is a _slave driver_. He hates me and wants me to die."

You shrug, a little amused. "I told you it wasn't a favor."

You've seen the kind of work your dad's assistants and _her_ assistants have to go through on a daily basis. You will run that company into the ground before you lift a finger to lead it.

You may be dead inside, but you're not stupid.

His voice says hate, but his body say something different. His spine stays straight, perfect posture, eyes straight and clear. Confidence.

Like Yuya.

"It's how he shows his love."

He runs a hand through his hair. "I don't believe you at all. Nevermind. What did you want? I have so much work to do it's not funny."

"No, you don't."

"...I don't." His voice is flat. "And why is that?"

You throw him the basketball. "For the next thirty days, you're my coach."

He stares.

"I have one month." You say.

One month to undo a lifetime of avoidance. One month to drag yourself up the level up of the Generation of Miracles. One month until Seirin.

"You... want me to teach you basketball stuff. _You._ "

You shrug. No, not really.

He stares at the ball. His black eyes met yours and all of the humor is gone. "Okay. Hana - what is _wrong_?"

You blink once. "...Nothing?"

"Hana. You _hate_ basketball. You actively resisted whenever I try to get you to play a one on one game. What the hell have I missed? I had to force you into playing. What the hell _happened_?"

Oh.

Nijimura doesn't know.

He wasn't… there. He wasn't there to watch his underclassmen implode. To see them fall apart, tumble like a house made of cards.

It takes you by surprise, and you don't know why. You open your mouth - and then close it with a shrug.

Nijimura isn't really part of the team anymore. He has other things to work on.

"I made a deal." Is all you say in the end.

"Like a bet?"

"Sure." You shrug. "Will you help me or not?"

He sighs, and his shoulders slump. "I could use a vacation."

 _How is this a vacation?_

The thought is vague. Asphalt cold and rough on your back, you stare up at the lightening sky. For once your mind is a blank slate. You hold up your hand, watch it shake with a detached fascination. Your breath is short and fast, your forehead covered in sweat.

Physical exhaustion. The words are almost foreign, sit strangely in your thoughts. This body is a marvel, a gift, but even it can't stand up to the full force of Nijimura Shuuzou's full attention and brutal training. If anything, he sees what you can do, and it makes him twice as harsh. He takes the knowledge that you are simply _made_ better - not without resentment, but without malice.

How strange, to not be underestimated.

Nijimura pushes, and pushes, and _pushes._ All because he knows that you can take it.

You feel lighter than you have in weeks.

"Done already, Hana?" Nijimura offers you a hand. "Come on. We're not done yet."

"No wonder my father likes you." You take his hand, let him pull you up. "You have the same idea of 'light work' as he does."

Nijimura snorts. "I'm nowhere near as bad as him, and you know it. What's up with him anyway? I thought I stepped into a shrine to you the first time I went to his office." He iddly dribbled the ball. "It'd be sweet if it wasn't so creepy having you scowl down at me every time I go to work."

"He loves me."

"Yeah. No kidding."

You shrug. "He doesn't see me that often. It's his way of coping."

"About that." Nijimura doesn't look at you, but you can feel his attention all the same. "Why not? It's a twenty minute ride from school."

You say nothing.

You were one month old when you looked up at the two people hovering over your crib. Your parents, the two people who created the prison. Your prison. Who dragged you out of peace and back into the world. You resent them for their love. If they hated you, none of this would be a problem. The dark would have won out long ago.

This body, this blood, this heavy heart - all of it because they want a child.

You will never forgive them completely.

You didn't _ask_ for this.

And neither did they. They didn't _know_.

It's easy to remember that when you don't have to look at them. When they're confined to the other side of a screen, the other end of the phone line. If you were kinder, you would have come to love them. To anyone else, they would have been fantastic parents. But they didn't get anyone else.

They got you.

They don't deserve to be hated by their only child.

So you tolerate them. Take phone calls and accept presents on your birthday. It might not be love, but it's all you have. The only thing you _can_ give.

You don't know how to explain it to Nijimura, so you just shrug.

He sighs. "Let's get back to work."

* * *

The month passes slips through your hands, faster than you can process it. One day Nijimura is drilling you into the ground, the next you're on a train wearing Seirin's uniform.

Seirin isn't as nice as Teikou. The school grounds are cared for, but not pristine. The air of the students themselves is relaxed in a way that surprises you. Sure the clubs are intense in their desire to recruit but they're not _frantic_. There's no real pressure tactics from the older students.

You wade through the crow without trouble. Ignore the various clubs handing out pamphlets, or the older students trying to get you to sit down and chat. It takes you five minutes to find what you're looking for.

 _There._

The sign for the basketball club. And, you can feel your lip curl up, a head of blue hair bent over something on the table.

Kuroko moves fast.

He's being ignored by the tall, dark haired boy and the brown haired girl standing next to him. Something about them seems familiar but… it's been a long time.

You never much cared about the Seirin team.

You hang back, wait for Kuroko to get done. Talking to Kuroko is not high on your list of favorite things.

He takes three minutes to fill out the form - and another two trying to hand it to the girl behind the desk. She ignores him while looking over the crowd, so finally he just sets it down, stands, and disappears into the crowd.

You wait a moment longer, stare at the table. Your face is blank. Your hands are loose at your sides.

It's only few feet, and you _still_ can't feel anything but apathy.

 _Get it over with._

The girl spots you first, and the gleam in her eye reminds you of Momoi. Oddly, it makes it easier to breath. "Are you here to join? We have manager's positions open!"

You don't get a chance to reply.

"C-captain?" Someone says, all anxious fear.

The girl looks at something over your shoulder and her eyes go wide.

A large shadow looms over you, and you close your eyes. Let yourself have one brief moment of gut churning nausea. Then, slow, you turn your head and look up in the face of Kagami Taiga.

Helpless frustration. You didn't need to be here, this pain is unnecessary. But you promised. So. You can wait until Kuroko realizes that you make a terrible light. Than you can quit without any complaints.

"Is this the basketball club?" His japanese is slightly accented. He's tall - but not skyscraper size like Murasakibara. He's broad shouldered, but solid as Aomine. His hair is red, but it's not the shocking, poisons red of Akashi.

One look is all you need to see: Kagami Taiga is not Generation of Miracles quality.

 _Yet, anyway._

He's also holding a boy up by the collar of his shirt, for some reason.

"Captain, I found a first year." The boy says, voice weak. You can almost see the tears running down his face.

"More like he found you." Glasses guy says under his breath.

You turn back to the table, dismiss him from your mind. Your hands do not shake. "The club application?"

"What?" She tears her eyes away from kagami. "R-right. Here you are. Just sign here, and put your previous school here - uh. "

There's a thump, like two feet hitting the ground, and then Kagami's red-black hair appears in the corner of your eye.

"Make it two." He says.

You ignore him, and take a seat. The glasses guy hands you a pen, eyes still on Kagami.

Each scratch of the tip on paper builds your prison around you. Bars of white paper, bricks of ink.

Ryukawa is your mother's maiden name, the one she still goes by at work. When you finally understood who Kise was, _what_ Kise was, you started using it as well. Ryukawa is cooler, you told your parents. Ryukawa is less of a household name. Ryukawa belongs to your mother and what little girl doesn't want to be just like her mother? Your parents accepted that.

Ryukawa is not a name meant for the Generation of Miracles, unlike Mashiro.

 _Selfishness._

Well.

Joke's on you, you guess - because here you are, of your own free will.

(Yuya never said a word, but you can tell it still bothers him sometimes.)

So when you write your name?

You write _Mashiro Hanako_.

The characters for Pure White, next to your Flower Child. Strange after so long being your mother's daughter. You hover over the name for a long moment. In the end, you move on. Leave it as is. Your school id already reads it, but writing it down yourself somehow makes it feel more… real.

Too late for regrets now, no matter how tired you feel.

You fill in the rest of the questions, pause only at the one at the very bottom. Why do you want to join our club?

You consider the question for one long moment.

Kise. Akashi. The Generation of Miracles, kids you could have cared about if you had it in you.

Then, careful, you write: Victory.

* * *

The gym is easy enough to find. You show up wearing a baggy white sweatshirt and basketball shorts you borrowed from Nijimura and never returned. There's a yellow stripe down the side, and you brush your fingers across it when you step up beside Kuroko.

He glances out of the corner of his eyes, but says nothing.

You keep your gaze ahead. Kuroko's not the only one looking at you. The rest of the first years exchange confused looks over your head - next to Kuroko, you're the shortest one in line and a girl besides.

Let them look.

The brown haired girl from the table walks into the room, clipboard in hand. A tall man with glasses walks with her.

"Is that the manager? She's sort of cute." Someone whispers.

"Wrong!" The boy upperclassman with glasses says, cheerfully. His smile does nothing to hide the waves of menace that roll off him. "That's Aida Riko, our _coach_."

That sounds vaguely familiar.

"B-but what about the teacher?"

Kuroko is the only other one of the first years who doesn't seem surprised.

(Besides you, anyway.)

Finally, Adia makes a final note on her clipboard and turns to the waiting first years. "All right. Shirts off!"

Beautiful silence.

You can't help the eye roll when an audible flush floods through the room.

 _Teenagers._

The body is just a body. Nothing more, nothing less.

Still, before you can do more than lift your shirt, a pale hand catches yours.

"What." You say.

No one does judgment like Kuroko does judgment. "We are in a gym full of boys, Ryuukawa-san."

"It's Mashiro now." You say. "And?"

One blink is all the surprise he shows. "Mashiro-san."

You wait, but that seems to be it. You glance down at his hands, cold and strong around your wrist. "Okay. Whatever. Let me go."

Kuroko jerks back like you're molten iron.

You finish pulling off your shirt.

He pointedly looks away.

Someone chokes.

"Okay, now line up and- half naked girl. Why - why are _you_ taking your shirt off?" The glasses guy shouts. His face flushes until it matches Akashi's hair and his eyes are focused somewhere over your shoulder. "That's only for players! Not _managers_ , you don't have to -"

You drop your shirt to the floor, on hand in you pocket. "I'm not here to be a manager. I'm here to play."

Obviously.

"No way."

You pause. Look over your shoulder. "Excuse me."

The first year scowls at you, condescension in every line of his body. "You're a girl. You can't even keep up with us, much less play in a match. If you got hurt, the other team would look like the bad guys. No one would _want to_ play us."

You stare at him, eyes flat. "Thank for your input, random stranger who's opinion I definitely asked for?"He flushes an ugly red. "Only no, I didn't. So you can shut the fuck up, I guess."

From the corner of your eye, you see Kuroko pinch the bridge of his nose.

At least someone's suffering as much as you are.

"You _bitch_ -"

He took two steps, and tries to loom. You eye him. Dude wasn't even on Haizaki's level.

You yawn. "Whatever."

A sharp clap breaks through the tension.

Both of you turn to look at the source.

Aida's face is just as unamused as her voice. "That's enough of that. Kiba-kun, please don't assume that you have any sort of control over who I accept into the team. You're not even part of the club yet, let alone a shot caller. And as for you… Mashiro-kun, was it?"

"Coach." You say.

Aida scans your body, shirt still off, eyes sharp. Assessing. You can almost see the numbers building up in her head, too fast to understand. A part of you relaxes, because this at least was familiar. Her gaze flickers between you and Kagami.

(It's been awhile since you spoke to Momoi.)

Aida meets your eyes, and you know you've won. "Stop provoking your teammates."

You shrug. "Sure thing, coach."

Just like that, you're in.

You glance at Kuroko - he looks as blank as he always is. He meets your eyes with a miniscule shrug. Yeah. Like it was ever in doubt. Aida is a true coach - meaning that no matter what form her talent came in, she knows how to recognize it. It's not arrogance to say that any team in japan would accept you, regardless of gender.

Hyuuga's eyes flick from her to you, and his mouth opens. Than he looks at Aida again and shuts it. "Alright, now that _that's_ settled - Freshmen, line up! Time to start drills."

"Are you _serious_?" Kiba shouts, throws his arms up. "Is this some sort of joke? She's a _girl_ -"

Hyuuga's glasses glint in the light. "Did. I. Stutter. _Freshman_?" A black aura surrounds him.

Kiba shuts up, real quick.

"Ah, the captain's in clutch mode. That was quick." The cat eyed boy says.

"Respect your sempai, you brats." Hyuuga says.

The freshmen scramble to follow his orders.

Someone is staring at you. You see red out of the corner of your eye.

Kagami's eyes are on you. Not even for the reason that the rest of them sneak glances for - his eyes skip over bared skin, come to rest on the back of your neck. You can tell the difference between a stare fueled by hormones and the burn of ambition. It brings to mind a flash of dark blue, Aomine's eyes watching you across the lunchroom. _Come play with me_ , those eyes always said. _Give me a challenge._

The day he stopped going to practice, he also stopped bothering you to play with him.

It makes you tired.

You keep your eyes forward, hands in your pockets. The wall is an off shade of white.

Maybe if you ignore Kagami, he'll go away.

You're not that lucky.

Kagami looms above you. "You. You smell strong."

Kuroko gives Kagami a look that no one but you notices.

"And your hair is ugly," you say, gaze still on the wall. Your voice is bland as unseasoned rice.

Riko clapped her hands together and the freshmen jumped. "Alright, that's enough chatter. Has anybody seen Kuroko-kun?"

"The one from Teikoku?" One of the regulars asks. "Wasn't that where the generation of miracles went to school?"

"Generation of miracles?" Kagami asks, finally looking away.

You pick up your shirt and put it back on while Kagami is distracted. Thank you, random side character.

Riko sighs. "Maybe he didn't come today. Well, I guess we can get started -

Kuroko raises a hand. "I am here, Adia-senpai."

The entire club jumps.

"W-when did you get here?" Riok shouts. The rest of

You snort. After three years to get used to him, you forgot how funny it was to see new people to react to Kuroko.

Kuroko doesn't look at you. "I was here the whole time, sempai."

With that, the rest of club is content to ignore you.

* * *

You're exhausted - not from the drills. You could run for days and not get winded and compared to Nijimura's training, this is child's play. Your eyelids are cinder-blocks, your feet encased in concrete. You feel heavy and too slow to escape.

Practice ends, finally.

You rub your face. You just… you forgot how much people _exhaust_ you. At Teikou there was always a buffer. Kise. Momoi. Akashi. Now, there's only Kuroko and he won't do you any favors.

You forgot the obligation of living; the inconvenience of _caring._ Caring feels like sinking. Like you tie another rope around your neck for each person you know, an anchor that keeps you grounded, keeps your breath in your body, when all you want to do is drift away.

Kasumi and Yuya and your mother. Aomine, Murasakibara, Midorima, Akashi. Momoi and Nijimura and even Kuroko.

Kise. Kise, most of all.

You rub your chest with a grimace. There's a low pounding in the back of your head, and it throbs in time with your heart, like something heavy on the bridge of your nose and your forehead.

You don't even make it to the school gates.

"Oi! Mashiro, wait up." Kagami calls.

You keep your eyes on the exit. If you don't acknowledge him, he'll go away.

Unlikely, but you live in hope.

Kagami has a foot on you, his long legs eat up distance. He doesn't even have to run to catch up to you and he ends up walking at your side, some sort of snack in his hand, and the tell tale crinkle of plastic in his bag revealing more. . "Hey, You're Hanako right? Or Mashiro, I guess. Is Mashiro right? Japanese is backwards and weird as hell."

You glance up at the sky. "What."

He plants himself in front of you. "You're the strongest I've seen since I got here - let's play a one on one game!."

You're not surprised. He really does remind you of Aomine. It doesn't stop you stepping around him without even looking at him. "No thanks."

A heartbeat of silence and then the sound of footsteps as Kagami catches up. "Why the hell not?"

You ignore him to pull out a pair of headphones.

He puts himself in your path again.

This time you stop to actually look up at him. Kagami's dramatic eyebrows draw down and his mouth is pulled into a scowl. "I thought japanese people were supposed to be polite. Why the hell won't you play with me?"

"I literally just got done playing basketball. The last thing I want to do is cater to some asshole I just met by playing _more._ "

He takes an "You're making it sound like you don't even like basketball."

You shrug, hands in your pockets. "Basketball is fucking boring.".

Kagami's eyes narrow. "You don't mean that."

That gets a roll of your eyes. "The answer is no. The answer will always be no. I'm not interested in being your rival or whatever. Find someone else."

"What's _wrong_ with you?" Kagami asks. "Why even join the club if you don't like playing?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a flash of light blue and your mouth twists. "I don't think that's any of your business."

Kagami scowls. "Has anyone told you you're kind of a bitch?"

You shrug. "They never really stop."

Both of you pause at the school gates. Kagami looks down at you and the light turns his hair Akashi red. "I'll make you change your mind."

You put your headphones in. "Sorry, did you say something?"

He takes an aggressive bite of his snack. " _Such_ a bitch."

You part ways there - you just going to opposite direction for the hell of it, because it's not like you have anywhere to be. Him to find some sort of food.

And following behind him, a blue haired shadow.

Kuroko brushes past you without a word, eyes on Kagami's back.

"Yeah. Nice to see you too, Kuroko." You say.

The second they're out of sight, all expression drains from your face like water from a sieve.

You are a mirror with nothing to reflect.

Without something to distract you, the cold starts to creep back in. You hunch your shoulders, but it's not a physical cold. You put Kuroko out of your mind. Y. Or not sleep, as it normally goes.

Who knows - now that Kuroko has another possibility, he might actually drop you.

You're not that lucky, of course, but the thought is nice.

* * *

 **just a quick note - probably not gonna be updating next month. Nano's coming up and I want to try writing something from scratch. Might be another KNB fic (no oc), might be a Naruto one (oc). Vote now lol**

 **NEXT TIME: How Do You Team, All aboard the poor decisions train, Kuroko is Not Nice (but you knew that already), Oh boy those are some Consequences.**


	9. IX

**in this chapter: depression naps for people who like living on the edge, 'is this how you partnership ft. hana and kuroko' (it's really, really not), Hana Does Not Know Or Care To Know Any Of Your Names, gay**

 **(more seriously, trigger warnings for: suicidal thoughts, misogyny, unhealthy relationships, a brief mention of prostitutes, disassociation)**

* * *

The further away you get from Seirin, the heavier your feet seem, until you can't lift them and you walk with a strange, shuffling guide towards the train station. It's not fatigue. Not the physical kind, anyway.

Motivation is hard to gather on the best days.

You stare at the ticket gate. The pass is in your bag. To get it, you'd have to take off your bag, search through it, get the pass, put your bag back on, and board the train. You ignore the people moving impatiently behind you.

Is it worth it?

 _Not really.  
_  
You turn and stumble away, drifting with the flow of the crowd like a leaf on top of of a stream. It takes you out an unfamiliar entrance, but there's a park down one street. A small eternity to passes while you stand in dark between two street lamps. Wind pulls the trees, bends their backs until they look as tired as you feel, then picks up your hair and whips it behind you; you look back.

A bench. Cold white, modern.

 _Good enough._ _  
_  
You manage to shrug off your backpack onto the bench before the apathy gets to be too much. Your knees give out, your mind just… stops. You slump, use the bag as a pillow. It might be cold. You can't really feel it. The light pollution is to bright to pick out any stars, but you stare up into the blue black of night and wish you were dead.

Every night you float above the dark, hanging by your fingertips; one day you're going to let go.

Not today, though.

You close your eyes and sigh.

* * *

School still starts the next day, and you arrive with rumpled clothes and a crick in your neck. Your hair is a wild mess. You let your body go on autopilot, and let the people in your way move or get run over. Like always, the crowd parts around you.

The first years are leaving the gym in a stream, behind Aida like a row of ducklings. The boy from yesterday gives you a sneer. You look past him with a yawn. There is Kagami's red hair, and just behind him is kuroko's blue. They stand at the very front of the line, with Kagami bouncing a little on his heels, impatient.

The coach waves you over. "Mashiro-chan. You're late."

You yawn again and shrug. She's lucky you showed up at all. It's not like she gave you a time to be at the gym.

Her mouth tightens but she doesn't say anything when you fall to the back of the line. A few of the boys give you ueasy glances. No one tries to speak to you.

You drag your feet along the tiles, look out the windows when the coach starts leading you up. At the top of the stairs, a second year you don't recognize holds open the door to the roof, his face in a perpetual smile, like a cat. The coach claps him on the shoulder and leads the first years onto the roof, and turns to them. Her smile is bright. "Alright! You think that you're members of the basketball club just because you turned in your applications?"

"That's... that's how it normally works." One of the freshmen says. "Right?"

The others murmured in agreement.

Kagami shifts again. You can't see his face from the back, but he's pretty easy to read. Agitation, impatience, curiosity. Kuroko, standing next to him is a brick wall in comparison.

Aida's smile sparkles even more. "Wrong!"

"What do you mean?" Kagami asks.

"We, here in the basketball club, have a tradition." She flung out her hand to the sky, and you can just make out the sound of a crowd below. "This isn't a casual club. The only type of members we want - more than _talent_ , more than _skill_ \- are people who _want to win_. We're aiming for the top. For the nationals! If you don't want to win, you don't belong in the club!"

You see Kuroko glance at you from the corner of his eyes, and you meet them with a smile full of mockery.

You don't belong here, and he knows it.

You'll gladly leave and never come back, the second he says anything.

He turns back to the front.

Your smile fades with a sigh and do the same.

 _Guess it won't be that easy._

"So this is the test: you shout out your ambitions to the world. The consequences are: if we lose the championship, you have to confess to the girl you like naked!" Aida declares.

"That's so dirty -"

"No way, the championship? With the Generation of Miracles hanging around?"

" _Naked_?"

...is she including you in this?

In the comotion, no one notices Kagami jump onto the railing surrounding the roof with a savage grin on his face. "I just gotta yell it out, right? I thought you'd ask for something hard." He he stands up to his full height, still on the fence. Good balance. "Class 1-A, seat 8, Kagami Taiga. I'm going defeat the Generation of Miracles and be number one in the world!"

You lean against the same fence, arms crossed over each other and see the students below look up and ignore the conversation going on behind you. It's a long, long way down. They look like toys without faces. Not quite real. You measure the height with your face blank, and your eyes half lidded.

The wall barely reaches your waist.

The open air sings, and for one blind moment you nearly listen. You want the open air around you so badly you can taste it.

Instead, you clench your hands hard enough that the metal cuts leaves dents in your palms.

You sigh and the sound is wistful to your ears.

 _Not yet._

There are promises to keep.

You glance over your shoulder at the door. The _unlocked_ door. While everyone's busy being surprised by Kuroko's existence, you slide a smidge away from the rest of class, just enough that you're out of direct line of sight.

You watch the rest of the scene play out, counting down in your head.

Aida scolds Kagami.

 _Three._

Kuroko makes everyone jump, megaphone in hand.

 _Two._

Just as Kuroko steps up to the fence, a teacher shows up in the door. You can nearly hear the blood veins popping from across the roof.

"Just _what_ is _going on here_?" The man growls.

Aida sweats. "Uh-."

 _One.  
_  
With every number, you take a small step away from the group, back up until you're almost at the opposite wall. On 'one' you duck behind the building housing the school access, outside of the teachers eyeline, behind the large water cistern all schools seem to kinda wish you had some popcorn. Or a pillow.

...a nap sounds good. Park benches are, unsurprisingly, not very comfortable. You lay down behind the cistern with your jacket acting as a pillow, and you close your eyes to the sound of the basketball club being chewed out.

"Wait," Kagami looks around. "Where's Mashiro?"

"That _traitor_." Aida growls.

Your lips quirk up and you close your eyes, let the sun wash over you.

* * *

Your nap lasts most of the first day, and you skip all but three of your classes. You wish you could skip all of them. When the introduction rounds reach you, you slouch at your desk. "Mashiro Hanako." Is all you say. Then you slump down in your chair and return to looking out the window. You say your name and nothing else. Unfriendly. You let the noise wash over you, put your head on your desk.

Lots of introductions that you don't bother remembering, lots of people who recognize your father's name, lots of ignoring they way both Kagami _and_ Kuroko are in your class and glaring at you for ditching them.

You drift.

There's a sense of motion. People passing. You blink and the classroom is empty. The bell rings and you blink, glancing at the clock.

 _Three hours._

You tap your nails on the desk. Losing time is... probably not a good sign.

You sigh and push your chair away from the desk with a shrieking sound. Club wouldn't wait.

 _No one's_ very happy with you for ditching them. You ignore the grumbling and half-heartedly complete the the rest of the team is too busy being exhausted to bother glaring at you. Aida is _brutal_.

(Nijimura is worse, though not by much.)

You don't do more than you have to, and still practice leaves you with zero willpower, to the point where all you can do is lay on your back and stare up, eyes unfocused, breath shallow and slow. You let the others look at you, filled with pity for the poor girl who tired to keep up with the big strong men. The same dude who wanted you to get off the team sneers at you like this proves him right.

You. Are. So.

 _Bored._

You wait for them all to leave, then slowly heave yourself to your feet. Your hands feel numb. It takes three tries to make your body respond enough to actually put on your uniform jacket. You leave the tie off.

You don't leave the school. Instead you climb up into a tree and wait for night to fall, stare up at the sky with your hands behind your head. It's a beautiful piece of color; purple clouds fading to pink, to a soft blue seen through the leaves. You don't feel the itch beauty normally brings you. All of your emotions sink below the surface of your mind, far out of your reach. They're _there_ , but you don't feel them, and they can't touch you.

Nothing can.

You stay there for a long time; the students pass below you, swirling around the edges of your awareness like air in a dust cloud. The sky puts away it's blue and gold and pulls on a soft black, studded with stars. The only sound is the wind rustling the leaves around you.

The sound of footsteps breaks the quiet and you open your eyes.

You were right.

Target acquired, you roll out of the tree, body automatically twisting to land easy as breathing - right on top of Kuroko, who lets out an exhale of breath.

You give him a lazy wave. "Sup."

It takes concentration to make out Kuroko's shape in the gloom. He's more shape than person, more shadow than color.

His deadpan gaze is cold. "Mashiro-san."

The 'what the hell are you doing here?' is silent.

You shrug. "Helping you."

"No, thank you." He says, politely. "I don't need to do Mashiro-san's work for her."

"Tch."

 _Caught.  
_  
He ignores you when you follow after him like the tail drifting behind a kite. It's quiet. The two of you travel through the school for ten minutes all the way around to the small storage shed the field striper is kept.

You tilt your head. How did he even know about that?

Momoi, probably. Does he have her number? They _are_ friends.

...she had a crush on him, didn't she?

You glance at the silhouette in front of you, than look away with your hands in your pockets.

Nothing to do with you.

You stand with hands in pockets and watch him struggle to get it out of the shed. It's tangled up in a length of volleyball net. Really, really tangled. Yikes.

You tilt your head. "That'll take a while."

He gives you a disgusted glance, hidden behind a blank face. "No thank you. I don't need your help."

"That wasn't an offer. That was an observation."

A few security guards make the rounds twice, but none of them take a single glance at you two. He's sweating by the times he's done; bent over and panting. Poor stamina; and he still has to write yet.

 _Weak.  
_  
The school is dark at night, only a few of the emergency lights in the main yard to light the way. The leaves rustle in a wind overhead.

"So." You fall into step beside him, hands still in pockets, watch the line of white spread over the grass. "Kagami."

The line wobbles, and you smile. There's nothing happy about it.

Yeah. You thought so.

"He's good." You say, eyes still down.

Kuroko rights the machine and pushes on. "Yes. Quite talented."

"And he loves basketball."

 _Unlike you._

Kuroko says nothing.

"He reminds me of Aomine."

Out of the corner of your eyes, your catch Kuroko's minute flinch. The look in his eyes is far away and full of pain. You know that he's thinking of dark blue and a bright grin, instead of red and a scowl.

"You're thinking twice about having me here." You say. "Who needs _her_? Now you have a light with potential, a light who's willing to work with you and loves basketball as much as you do." You flash him a mocking smile. "Congratulations, Kuroko. You've upgraded."

From Aomine to you. From you to Kagami.

The white line pauses. He turns to look you in the eyes and his are cold and hard in the shadow.

You give him a small, empty smile you remember from Kise, and his eyes go even colder. "You have an easy alternative. You don't need me anymore." You tilt your head. "So why am I still _here_ , Kuroko?"

Why are you _still here_?

"Mashiro-san is modest." Kroko says. "Kagami-kun is not yet on her level."

 _Ah.  
_  
You watch him, half in shadow, half in light. "If Kagami was better than me, you'd let me go."

Kuroko meets your eyes and his face is ice. "Mashiro-san makes it sound like I'm holding her hostage."

Isn't he?

Would you be here if it weren't for Kuroko holding you to your promise?

Your smile is more a baring of teeth this time. " You must really want to win, to put up with me being around. Anything for victory, huh? How very Teikou of you."

Pale skin goes paler. Blue eyes look away - but he doesn't disagree. Instead he picks up the field striper again and throws himself back into his work.

You leave him to it, walk away. You look up at the sky, a sigh escapes you. The wind catches you hair and pulls it in front of the moon like a curtain, leaving you in the dark for a long, cold moment. You brush it impatiently out of your face.

All you have to do is drag Kagami up to your level.

* * *

The next day, the freshmen gather at the gym like it was natural, stand in front of Aida in a single file line. You still don't know any of their names and you don't bother asking. You stand next to the shortest boy, and ignore the way the rest of them are staring at you.

Aida paces in front of all of you like a general inspecting her troops. "Well, now that we're all here - Mashiro-chan! Your _hair!_ " She freezes in front of you, hands hover in the air like she wants to touch it. "D-did something happen?"

You shrug, ignore Kuroko's eyes on your now bare neck. The movement is strangely light. You've never cut your hair in this life, because Kasumi loved to play with it when you were small and it seemed like a pain to get it cut. And you were right - it _was_ a pain.

You don't keep sharp objects in your apartment (for obvious reasons) and you had yet to find a salon open at five in the morning.

(You didn't find a salon, but you did find a few barely dressed women on a street corner who attended beauty school for a couple years. They had no customers anyway, and you payed them both 20,000 yen.)

Now, your hair's shorter than Kuroko's, with bangs parted to the side. It looks good, probably. All you needed was to get it out of the way. For once, you feel lighter.

More… present, like the world gained definition without anything to hide your eyes behind.

"Commitment." You say.

A promise to yourself.

You'll be done with this team before your hair touches your shoulders again.

Riko stares at you. "That's… not really what I meant?"

You brush the hair out of your eyes - only to get halfway through the motion and realize that it's not in your eyes. It's too short for that. "Do you want me to shave it all off?" Pretty sure you could find those ladies again, if you really need to.

"No! It's good, it's good. It's definitely enough." Riko waved her hands. "It's just… you had such pretty hair."

You shrug again. "It'll grow back."

"Are you really a girl?" Kagami asked, voice full of doubt. "Because I don't see - ow!"

Kuroko withdrew his elbow from Kagami's gut. "Kagami-kun is rude."

" _I'm_ rude? I'll show you _rude_ , asshole -"

You roll your eyes and ignore them.

Aida clears her throat. "Alright, moving on. It's time to continue our tradition!"

"We still have to do that?" Someone asked.

"Of course! Except Kagami and Kuroko, who already did it. And Mashiro-chan." Aida glances at you again, and shakes her head.

Dude-bro's face goes ugly. "Why does she get a pass?"

You look at him. "Do you want me to shave _your_ head."

He shuts up.

"We can't go up to the roof anymore. What are we supposed to do?" A freshman frowns.

Aida's smile is refreshing. "Announcing it in front of the school gate at the time when most students are getting here, of course!"

 _Of course._

"I'm not doing it." Dude-bro, The same freshman who tried to argue you out of the team says.

Aida's smile doesn't falter. _Danger, will robinson._ "Repeat that?"

The dude is either stupid or suicidal because he only sneers. "I said that I'm not doing it. Are you deaf? I'm a nationally ranked player, and you're telling me that I have to do - do this hazing thing?"

 _Stupid it is._

"That's nice." Aida says, clearly unimpressed. "Unfortunately, there's no exceptions! I'll see you at the gate in twenty minutes."

The freshman sputters and Aida waves goodbye. Her skirt flutters as she cheerfully bounces away, and you can't help the way your mouth curls up. She's a force of nature who knows what she wants and does her best to make it happen.

You like it.

If Aida was the one in charge of Teikou, things would have turned out differently. Akashi would have had the help he needed, Aomine would have had someone willing to punish him for going to far, Murasakibara would have followed her around like a little Chick. Kise would have - Momoi would have - you stop that thought before it can finish.

Thinking of Momoi always feels a little dangerous.

Dude-bro doesn't like it at all. "This is such bullshit." He says, face an ugly mask. He roughly pulls his bag over his shoulders and turns to his friends. "Let's go. This team is a waste of time but what can you expect from a school that lets any old trash in." He glances at you and sneers. "They're not going to get anywhere by dragging dead weight."

"Wait a sec, Wait as sec - You're just giving up? Because you don't… wanna _introduce_ yourself at the gate?" Kagami's face is confused. "It's not hard."

"When the 'coach' realizes her mistakes and begs for me to come back, maybe I'll consider it. Until then..." he snorts. "Good luck."

Kagami watches the him leave with narrowed eyes. This is probably why you don't recognize him. There's no way Aida would go after a small fry like him, not when he's arrogant and non-cooperative and she knew his specs. Not worth fighting for.

The rest of the freshmen look at each other, feet shuffling.

"He's got a point." One of them says. "The club's kind of... intense."

"Yeah." Another one agrees. "I just wanted to have some fun in a club. Not... this. I'm out."

 _Good riddance._

You see Kuroko's mouth purse and catch his eyes.

You shake your head minutely.

People like that always gave up at the first sign of trouble; there's no point trying to convince only for them to stop showing up in three months. Plus Dude-bro is the opposite of someone you wanted on your team. He gave off Haizaki vibes, and you don't know how long it'd take you to snap and bury in a shallow grave for being fucking annoying.

His mouth goes tight but he gives an imperceptible nod. He understands, but then, you knew he would.

How many of the third string players just... gave up?

Kuroko's seen the faces around him shift like sand in the desert, the only rock among them. He's also dealt with people like Haizaki, who thought a bit of talent made them titanium, made them better, untouchable and clean.

Even in Teikou there were people like that. Aomine was like that, at the end.

... _Is_ like that.

Sometimes, you still picture a blinding white grin when you think of him, the way he'd pester you for a game until Momoi dragged him away.

Now, The only difference between him and Dude-bro is Aomine actually _is_ that good.

If you were a better person, you'd feel guilty.

You're not. The only thing you feel is tired.

Jokes on you.

It's _Kise_ you should have ignored.

He remains the only person you'd stop being selfish for; the only rope you hesitate to cut.

With the first three gone, the rest of the freshmen slowly trickle away, like water through a cracked bow until it's only you, Kuroko, Kagami and two others. Both of them look familiar, even if you don't remember their names. One tall and one short. The short one squeaks when you look at him.

"Everyone done being fucking cowards?" Kagami glowers at the rest of you.

No one says anything.

"Finally. Let's go already."

You roll your eyes.

Aida is waiting at the gates, arms crossed over her chest. Her mouth goes tight and her eyes flicker over you, taking the head count. Than she visible shakes herself and the look goes away. "Excellent. Let's get this show on the road! Name, Class and Goal!"

You ignore the others and look up at the sky, hands crossed behind your head. Clouds gathered in a shroud around the sun.

Rain…

It feels like you're forgetting something.

* * *

The rest of the week drags like Murasakibara's feet on the way to practice. The other two freshmen make it into the club, and you settle into a routine. You think about quitting at least three times a day - more.

The ball starts feeling like a part of your body. It's easy to the point where you want to die. You hate it.

Or, you would, if you had the energy. The most you can muster is a vague, weary resentment.

"Alright brats, listen up!" Hyuuga shouts. "We're going to split into teams and do a little practice!"

"Oh. Does that mean it's going to be freshmen against the seniors?" Izuki asks.

The captain's glasses glint in the light. "That's right."

Timid guy gulps.

"Sounds like fun." Kagami stretches his arms overhead. "Let's do it."

"That's the spirit." Aida says. "Alright, the first-years come over here. There are five of you, so the teams should be even… wait, where's Kuroko?"

"Right here, coach." Kuroko says from behind Kagami.

Kagami jumps and looks to the side. "Kuroko! How long have you been standing there?"

Kuroko blinks like a lizard. "Kagami-kun is the one who stood by me."

"...Goddammit."

You roll your eyes. What a fucking liar.

Aida claps her hands together sharply. "Alright, enough of that. Get on the court."

"Yes coach." The freshmen chorus.

You stretch your arms out and study the upperclassmen. The five of them look relaxed, calm. Made sense. They were a group of finalists last year. You glance at your teammates and catch the small, timid one's eyes.

He squeaks again and looks away.

You should probably learn his name.

Kagami clears his throat to get your attention. "Are you sure you want to wear that? It's a little…"

Your practice gear consists of a pair of shorts and a tank top. You give him a deadpan look. "We're wearing the same thing."

The boy flushes. "I can see your _bra_!"

You glance away from him, already bored. "You're welcome."

He sputters and Kuroko sighs. "Mashiro-san, please don't antagonize the team."

Your lip curls. You don't say anything; the silence speak for itself.

The other two freshmen shift awkwardly in the quiet.

"L-let's have a good game." The timid one says to the captain, almost like a question.

Hyuuga cracks his neck. "Lets."

He and Kagami stand in the middle, with Aida holding the ball.

"Let's have some fun." She says.

Then the time for talk is over - Aida blows the whistle and Hyuuga and Kagami both jump for it. Kagami gets the ball, and knocks it into the air. Take one step back and catch it by the tips of your fingers, and let it roll down your arm, over your shoulders into your left hand; the movement is smooth.

"The hell?" Hyuuga says, a disbelieving smile on his face.

You flick your wrist and send it back to Kagami within the blink of an eye, and he snatches it out of the air with a laugh. You've never played in a match before. Only one vs. one.

Should be interesting.

Plus, there's Kuroko to consider. You've never played with him either - will the two of you match up?

You unfocus your eyes until the court blurs - there.

A flash of blue to the left of you. He's already collapsed into shadow - the upperclassmen's eyes slide over him like he's a particularly boring piece of wall.

You catch his eyes.

 _Give me the ball._

His face is blank, but he gives you a small nod.

No matter how much you don't like him, you've known him for nearly all of middle school. It's enough to make his movements clear as glass.

It's like your mind splits in two; one part of it belongs to the body, a pure, physical thing without a thought for the people around ti. The other is purely analytical and moving almost to fast to understand. It feeds fact after fact into your body, working as a single machine in perpetual motion.

You've never felt your body settle into something so well and you hate it. It's so easy that you want to throw up. The normal impatience is gone, leaving only a surety of motion. It's like having a camera in you hand, your finger on the button, hearing the shutter and knowing you have something worth keeping.

 _Click._

You have the ball in your hands, fingers stinging under Kuroko's pass strength.

 _Click._

Brush past the smiling sempai — his eyes blown open wide for once — under the arms of the captain, step back from the arms lunging for the ball. You toss it your head and follow the arm in your head.

A shadow appeared behind you, looms over your head. Kagami slams the ball down in the net, a feral grin on his face.

 _Click._

No one catches the rebound. They're too busy staring at you and Kagami.

"I knew you were strong." Kagami clapped you on the shoulder hard enough to stagger you. "After this we should —"

"Pass." You pick up the ball.

"Aw c'mon, it'll be fun!"

You ignore him. "Are we still playing?"

Hyuuga shook his head like a dog shaking off water. "You bet your ass we are. Can't let you show us up."

Good luck with that.

If you had to say, Kagami's skill level is about kise the first month he started playing. Not bad, but not good enough. There might be potential there, but Kagami's not there yet.

You heart sinks.

...this might take longer than you thought.

He misses shots Midorima would make in his sleep. He's not as fast as Aomine, as tall as Murasakibara, as skilled as Akashi, as talented as Kise.

This is the kid you have to drag up to that level?

Of course it goes downhill from there. Kagami quickly gets covered by three of the sempai.

You could score by yourself, but…

...effort.

 _Ugh._

Basketball is a team sport, so you pass the ball to the nervous kid - who fumbles it with a yelp. He shakes out his hands. The taller one knocks it out of the air, almost out of the court. There's a moment of silence. The cat faced senior picks it up with almost insulting ease and passes it to the captain, who sets up a three pointer.

The kid goes pale. "S-sorry!"

How can they be so slow? The irritation bubbles up in the back of your mind, and you let out a deep breath.

These kids can't keep up with you.

It's not their fault, just a fact. Irritation uses too much energy. You can't afford it right now.

"Sorry!" The kid's face is miserable and a deep red.

Kuroko steps up to his side — not that anyone but you notices — and you can't read the look on his face. It's conflicted. He doesn't say anything so you ignore him.

A puff of air escapes you. "It's fine." You hold up your hand. "Punch as hard as you can."

He blinks. "W-what?"

Is he deaf? "Punch my hand."

"But - but "

 _Jesus Christ._

"Do it." You snap, channel Akashi in one of his moods; the boy squeaks and lashes out with a fist, connects solidly with your palm. It stings a bit.

You shake your palm. "Good." Now you know his hand eye coordination, and his top speed. You only have to slow down enough to match him. "Now you."

The tall one doesn't hesitate, and punches your palm.

You nod at them and let the new knowledge sink into your body on automatic.

Kuroko's eyes are steady on you when you look up.

You raise an eyebrow. How long have you watched him play in games? You know what Kuroko is capable of.

You're not giving him a chance to punch you.

"Alright. Let's get back to it." You say.

And they do.

It's not simple. You don't pass the ball too hard again, but that doesn't make the other problems go away. Kagami is hot headed. Kuroko is _weak_. The other two are plainly not on your level. You're _bored_.One of the hardest parts is slowing down. The rest of the team - even Kagami, even Kuroko - they can't keep up with you. You feel like you're moving through molasses. Kagami and you work around each other awkwardly, Kuroko and you have no real teamwork to speak of beyond 'get you the ball'.

Still, your team manages to pull it off by the skin of their teeth. The game ends with the freshmen winning. You're not surprised. With Kagami and Kuroko and you on one team, it'd be stranger if you didn't win.

It's good enough for you — and for Aida, going by the look of satisfaction on her face. "Well, done everyone! I think that this is going to be a good year."

You cross your arms behind your head, and try not to let the your teammates drip their sweat on you. How were they so sweaty in the first place? You feel fine.

Ugh.

"I'll say." Hyuuga scrubs at the sweat coating his forehead. "We got a bunch of monsters." But he sounds more pleased than anything.

You look at Kagami — and find him looking back.

He bares his teeth at you in a parody of a smile.

Face blank, you ignore his outstretched fist and walk away. Let Kuroko take it.

You're not here to make friends.

* * *

The gathering clouds finally break the next day. You wait, still in uniform, for the guys to get done with the locker room and change yourself. The last time you tried changing with everyone, they all screamed like babies and made Aida drag you out of the room. You're doing drills at the moment and it's not hard, but it is time consuming. It's mindless, but it's an almost pleasant mindlessness. You don't think much while doing it - it's like your body is set to automatic. Point and shoot.

 _Swish._

 _Swish._

 _Swish._

"Alright, the locker room is free." Hyuuga says, interrupting the flow of your practice.

You blink and pass the ball through the net behind you, know the arc even with your back turned. "Alright."

 _Swish_.

Hyuuga roughly messes up your hair with an eye roll. "Quit showing off, you brat." Any hesitance over your gender vanished in the two weeks you've been on the team; he treats you like a shorter, smarter version of Kagami.

You blink once at his back. Your forehead feels tingly, like the skin their didn't know what to make of the warmth of someone's hand on it.

When was the last time someone touched you outside of basketball practice?

Teikou. Momoi, with her hand on your arm; her fingers tracing a strange pattern while she talks makeup with Kise and a bored looking Aomine. The scene is so vivid you swallow and taste her strawberry perfume on your tongue. Kise, laughing from the other side of the table, a real laugh.

"Hana-chan?"

Your hands tighten on the basketball - in anyone else it'd be called a flinch.

 _Not Momoi_. Momoi doesn't even go here.

You turn to Aida. "Coach."

She stares at your face, and you can't read her. "We're starting."

Put the thought away. Akashi, Murasakibara, Midorima, Aomine, Momoi, Kise. None of them are here, with you. Every day that passes, they seem less real. Less present. Teikou begins to sound like a story you told yourself. A place where you were nearly happy.

 _Sentiment._

Tch. You shake your head and go get changed.

The feeling follows you all through practice. You almost fumble a ball - _you_.

Kuroko is quiet too; more than usual. He became even more transparent to the point where you were having trouble seeing him. He didn't speak to anyone, not even Kagami. You watched him flip through a magazine during break and catch a flash of gold on gold. You turn away and let the timid freshman lure you into a one on one.

 _Should probably learn his name._

After the game is done and the freshman is a sweaty mess on the floor you sigh and look up at the sky. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Kagami fidgeting like a little kid, kis eyes bright. "Play me next!" He says.

"Too tired."

"Liar! You're not even sweating!" He glowered. "Come on, Hana! Why will you play a game with everyone else but me?"

Because you don't want to be considered a Aomine-class rival.

(Also, since when did you give him permission to use your first name?)

You yawn and throw the ball to Hyuuga. "The captain will play with you."

Kagami scowls. "I want _you_ -"

Hyuuga rolls his eyes and grabs Kagami by the collar, drags him onto the court. "Quit bothering your teammates. Get back to work!"

The rest of the club does as he says.

A little bit later, Timid guy looks around. "Where's the coach?"

For some reason the two of you have been designated partners. He's stopped flinching when you look at him, but he still can't meet your eyes without a squeak.

Hyuuga glances around and groans. "Oh man. You better be ready, because if that girl skipped practice, she's got something planned."

A ear splitting shriek breaks the air.

The ball tumbled from your numb fingers.

You look over to Kuroko - and find him already looking back. How many times have your heard that particular tone of scream? The delight, the sheer manic devotion in it, how could you not recognise it?

Kuroko does to. You could see the realization forming in his face, blank as it was.

The two of your look at the door as one - and there he was.

Kise's gold hair looks out of place in the small gym, like finding a glittering gem in the gutter. A crowd of fluttering girls surrounds him, chattering a mile a minute. He chatters back, easily keeping up with all of them.

"Who the hell are you?" Kagami demands.

Kise gives him a sheepish look. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to make a scene, they just showed up." He looked over the team.

"Kise Ryouta," Kuroko says. "A member of the Generation of Miracles."

Kagami bliks. "Seriously? This flashy guy?"

Kise pouts. "Who're you calling flashy? Your hair is the tackiest thing I've ever seen. That shade of red? If you're going to copy Akashicchi, you should at least get the shade right." He hugs Kuroko to his chest. "Seriously, Kurokocchi, this is your new light? He's so… weak looking. Aominecchi is better than him. I'm way better than him. That's why you should come play with me!"

Kuroko's poker face doesn't crack. "Kagami-kun isn't my new light."

"Really?" Kise beams at Kuroko, and the girls around him squeal. "Y-you don't have one? I can be your light if -"

Kuroko glances at you, and your stomach drops. "No thank you, Kise-kun. I _do_ have a light. Kagami-kun is not it."

Your chest goes tight with Kise's frown. No voice escapes your throat.

"If it's not him, then who —"

You step back - but it's too late.

Gold eyes find at you. Kise looks right at you and his face - cracks.

He takes one step back and lets Kuroko slip from his arms. "H-Hanachii?"

A spike of cold pierces your heart. You clutch the basketball to you chest like a shield.

It's only been two months, and still your reaction to seeing Kise take you by surprise. It's like picking up a camera again. He bleeds color, every movement drags a ribbon of vividness behind it, like paint spreading in water. Apathy burns away like Kise is a miniature sun. You— you _feel_. You forgot how affection tastes, the bubble of it his gold hair inspires. It rushes up like lava from volcano and pours over your body like it's a small town, to fast to evacuate. No survivors.

You _missed_ him.

"Kise." your voice sounds horse, like you haven't spoken in weeks. "Long time, no see."

* * *

 **happy new year, guys!**

 **trying to make things a little more uniform. future chapters will be shorter like 3000-4000 words, not the 6000-8000 i've been putting out. Gotta focus on real life for a bit lol, but hopefully the chapters will increase from once every two months to twice a month.**

 **hopefully.**


	10. X

"Wait," Kagami says. "You know the Generation of miracles too, Hana?"

"Mashiro-san was friends with most of them." Kuroko's monotone voice fills the room.

Kise- shuts down. One fangirl gets a look at his face and stumbles back, autograph paper still clutched in her trembling hands. "Mashi -? No, never mind that. _That's_ all you have to say? 'Long time, no see'?"

What else is there?

He throws up his hands. "What the hell are you _doing_ here, Hana?"

You flinch.

The way your name, stripped of all affection, comes out of his mouth feels... wrong, unnatural. You've been Hanacchi for as long as Kise could talk. A razor blade shoved somewhere deep inside your chest twists.

"Kise-kun?" Kuroko says, a sliver of concern in his voice.

Kise glances at him, and visibly pulls his smile back on. "Sorry, Kurokocchi. I was... surprised. This was the last place I expected to find Hana."

Kuroko's eyes flickers between the two of you. "She... didn't tell you."

The smile on his face is painful to look at. "Nope! I had no idea where she was. Where _you_ were. Momoicchi only told me that _you_ were here last week. I came to invite you to play with me, at Kajou!"

And it finally hits you.

You hurt him.

The rest of the conversation turns to white hands tremble once but you're too busy trying not to throw up. The horror of the thought fills your throat, leaves you breathless like you've been gut punched.

You hurt Kise, badly enough that he can't even look at you and —

A broad back fills your vision, cuts Kise out of your line of sight.

"Alright, that's enough of that." Hyuuga says from in front of you, and his voice is stern even though you can't see his face. "I don't care if how famous you are. You don't get to come into my court and harass my players. Tell us what you want or leave. I don't care which."

"Your..." You can't see Kise, but the confusion comes through anyway. "Kurokochii? Hana's really -"

"Yes." Kuroko says. "My light."

You lean around Hyuuga, mouth open to explain - and nothing comes out.

You've never been a liar.

Kise looks at him and then at you, and he laughs; the sound cut. "So that's how it is. Even though -" He cuts himself off, but it's too late.

 _Even though you know how I feel, you still did_ this _._

Your stomach roils.

He's not wrong. You know. You _knew._ Still, you accepted Kuroko's offer, even if it's everything Kise's ever wanted. There's nothing you can say. No words that will explain how little you want to be here. How much you wish it was him, instead of you. He should already know this, because he understands your more than anyone else.

Or he did.

You look at his gold hair, his pale, tired face, and it's like meeting a stranger for the first time.

Kise rubs a hand across his face, and you notice the dark circles under his eyes for the first time. "Fine. _Fine_. I'll see you on the court tomorrow. _Both_ of you." He leaves the gym with heavy feet, and his fan club recedes like the tide.

A strange silence falls in his wake.

"I don't suppose either of you is going to explain that little exchange." Hyuuga says.

This time, you don't have to look at Kuroko to come to an understanding. No. You think about opening your mouth and telling this team - your team, for now - how the group of people you were never a part of, apart from, came crashing down. You can't. Your mouth stills, your tongue rebels. They didn't belong to you, but that doesn't matter. These people are outsiders. Strangers.

Kuroko wants to talk about it even less, because He vanishes between one blink and the next.

The world spins around you. You hear a voice speaking from far away, one that sounds like yours. "I feel a little sick, Coach. I'm going to the nurse."

Aida says something back, but you can't hear anything over the ocean in your ears.

You leave the gym.

* * *

You don't go to the nurses office. You don't know where you go, the world moving by in a cloud of gray fog. You find a corner coated in dust and you sit down, ignoring the way dirt sticks to your sweaty skin. There are no windows here, so you don't know how long you just... sit there, stare at the blank white wall. Blue and black spots dance across your vision, and your eyes itch. You blink as little as possible, because every time you do Kise's face shows up like the afterimage of a camera flash.

The nausea fades, drains out of you like blood from a punctured IV bag. All you have left is a numb exhaustion.

You don't sleep. You don't think.

You just exist.

One thought breaths itself to life, resurrects no matter how many times you kill it.

Why didn't you tell Kise you were going?

It's a thought you try to avoid. You know the reason, but it's so sour, so weak, it can't belong to you.

You wanted -

It hurts the way ripping off a bandage hurts.

You wanted to be found.

The sheer pettines of the thought surprises you out of numbness, a hammer through a brick wall.

You... _you_ wanted him to look for you, out of his own accord.

Your lips curl up the slightest bit. Looks like you're not as immune to living as you thought. In a handful of years, these people you thought so important will be dust, along with your own body.

They don't - _matter_.

Not really.

You don't know why it hurts so much.

The dark is waiting for all of you in the end, and what are bonds in the face of it? Like a mountain in the sea. Eventually everything gets worn away. It's not worth the pain, not worth the effort to care.

You close your eyes.

* * *

Sometimes you make it back to your apartment, and collapse onto the floor there. But the days were you have the energy to care about that stuff are few and far in between. You know it's not healthy to find the nearest flat surface and not move until your alarm goes off in the morning, but caring takes something you don't have. On your bad days, you don't even make it out of the school.

Today is a bad day.

By the time you make it out of the dusty corner, all of the students are gone. Your legs feel like bricks tied to the end of your feet. Your eyes keep drooping closed. You make it around the corner before you just - give up. Slide down the wall and let gravity do the rest. The floor is cold and it seeps into your bones. It's pleasant, so you press your forehead to the floor. It's just... so much work.

Each day matters less than the day before. The decline is miniscule, but exponential, building up on the day before, until you look at your brother and feel - nothing.

You can't run from the dark.

"Hana?" Kagami's voice asks. "What the hell are you doing?"

You groan out loud.

 _Of course._

Of course it's Kagami who finds you on one of your bad days. At least Kuroko would just leave you where you were. The feeling is faded and worn but it's still the strongest thing you've felt in… a while.

A hand lifts back your head, forcing you to meet Kagami's eyes. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

Words. You remember words.

A beat passes while you try to remember why you need them. "Fuck off, Kagami. 'M fine. 'M _always_ fine."

He sniffs the air. "...are you _drunk_?"

You close your eyes, already done with this conversation. Kagami runs hot; his hand is like a sun spot on your shoulder, distracting you from the wonderful cold. The look in his eyes - annoyance and exasperation and something close to worry - it's so familiar, it burns. Kise, Akashi, Your parents - all of them had a variation of that look.

You hate it. The concern, the awful obligation it presents you. You turn your head away, close your eyes.

A beat passes. Kagami says something but his voice is far away.

Than, movement. Kagami picks you up without effort and puts you over his shoulder. You contemplate kicking him in the head, but - it's too much work. You let him carry you.

 _Cold_!

Breath escapes you and you sit up with a gasp. You blink and look around. This was... the locker room?

"Finally awake?"

You tilt your head. "Kagami. Why am in the shower."

He snorts and pushes off from the wall. "Ask yourself that, you moron. Who sleeps falls asleep in a school hallway? Huh?" He twisted the nob and the water shut off. " What if you got found by a teacher? What if you were attacked by a weirdo?"

Like the random foreign kid who threw you in the shower with all your clothes on?

You blink the water out of your eyes. "Why are you even here? It's like -" You glance at the clock. "Three in the morning?"

 _Whoops._

He scoffs. "I could ask you the same thing."

"Why do you care?"

"Why do I - why do I _care_?" He scowls. "Are you fucking serious?"

Obviously. You sit up, muscles stiff and achy.

"You _are_ serious. I helped you because you're my teammate." Kagami says slowly, like you're stupid. "What the fuck was your last team like? Didn't they ever help you out?"

"I've never played on a team before." You brush the wet hair out of your face. "I've only ever played one on one games with one of my former sempai."

Nijimura is always brutal, no matter what type of basketball he's playing. No mercy, no slowing down, no slipping. He's the type that shoves you past the finish line with a broken bone. Never once tried to take care of you, because you didn't need it.

He slips and catches himself on the wall, stares at you with a look of disbelief. "No. Now I know you're shitting me. How do you play so well then?"

You shrug. "Natural talent."

The look on his face. The terrible ,familiar, envy, the kindling resentment. You sigh, stare up at the off white tiles on the ceiling, tired already. New person, same old bullshit. You didn't ask for this body - you'd rather not have it at all. Shredded uniforms, book-bags dumped into fountains, whisper campaigns every other week, attention you never ask for. There's always some new, awful thing about being around people.

They want you to be the best and resent when you are. They want you to be _better_. They want you to slow down, with the rest of the class.. They want you to strip your body down, down to the barest essentials - talent, skill, power - and pass them around for the rest of them to enjoy. They want you to apologize for being what you are, what you had no choice about.

Even Kise. Even Nijimura.

Nevermind that would leave you with nothing. Never mind you'd be more hole than person.

It's exhausting.

The only thing you can do in the face of people who want to take everything you are is hold everything in a death grip close to your chest.

"I'm not a people person." You say.

Kagami rubs a hand down his face. "You can say that again." He says in english. "Here." He threw a something at you and you catch it reflexively.

It's a change of clothes.

"Your locker was open, by the way."

You shrug. Nothing in there was worth protecting. You pull off your shirt and bra without a thought.

After three weeks with you, Kagami doesn't blink. He does do an about face, though. "Warn a guy when you're going to do that."

"When I meet a guy, I will."

" _Such_ a bitch."

You finish changing and Kagami turns around to look at you.

A moment of quiet grows, blooms into something awkward. What are you supposed to do now? Thank him? You don't feel very thankful.

Mostly you feel tired.

Kagami claps his hands together. "Alright, we're going to get some food. If I have to deal with your bullshit, I'm going to need a full stomach."

You don't get a chance to protest, because he grabs your wrist and pulls you behind him like a toddler with their security blanket, or a dog on a leash.

You let him.

* * *

The two of you end up at Maji Burger, the only place open at this god forsaken hour. The girl behind the counter looks as bored as you do - or she does until Kagami orders a literal mountain of food. Then she just looks horrified.

 _You're_ a little horrified. The pile of burgers is almost as tall as you are, and it's a disgusting to see him go at it. Like watching a rabbit go through a wood chipper.

"What were you even doing at school?" You ask, voice toneless. You poke the burger listlessly - and it squelchs.

 _Ugh._

Kagami had no problem with hamburgers for breakfast, with the rate he ate them. "I was too excited to sleep, so I decided to get there early to shoot some hoops."

"At three in the morning."

"At least I actually left."

Fair enough.

"So," Kagami says through a mouthful of food. "I heard that you came from Teikou, like Kuroko."

"Did he tell you that?"

"No. He barely even talks about you. The two of you are super fucking weird about each other, by the way. Like, at first I'm sure it's hate but then you go and do some weird telepathy thing and manage whole conversations without saying a word. It's bizarre."

The plastic seat squeaks when you shift back. It might just be the cheapest thing you ever touch in this life and the thought fills you with a little disgust - and your disgust fills you with disgust.

Are... are you a spoiled rich girl? Is that what's happening here?

Your worldview is _shook_.

Then Kagami's words catch up with you, and the terrible realizations train chugs along.

"We don't have a 'telepathic thing'," You protest.

Kagami snorts. "Pull the other one, it's got bells on it." He says. In english. He makes a face. "Sorry. I don't know the phrase for what you just said in japanese, but it's bullshit."

Even if you had an explanation, you wouldn't tell him.

Telepathic thing, your ass.

You give him a disinterested glance and continue picking at your food.

"Fine," Kagami says around a mouthful of food. "Be that way."

And that's the last thing either of you say for the next four hours. Neither of you have anywhere to be until seven, so you sit and watch Kagami go back to the increasingly horrified worker for seconds two more times. She gives you wide eyes and you give her a shrug. Kagami's stomach is probably a black hole.

At seven, the two of you head back to the school to find the rest of the team is waiting for you at the bus.

Aida tapps her foot. "You're late."

"We're ten minutes early." You say.

She waves that away like facts are a passing fancy. "Everyone else is here. We're just waiting on Kuroko."

Your brow furrows. "He's standing right behind you."

As one, the team glances behind her - and jumps.

Even Kagami. "Goddammit Kuroko! _Say_ something next time."

Kuroko's gaze flickers from you too Kagami. You can't read the expression on his face - only that it's there. He looks you in the eyes and suddenly you can read the suspicion in them. Why are you with Kagami?

 _"That mind reading thing you two do is fucking weird by the way."_

Shit. Kagami is _right_.

You look at him- only to find him looking at you with raised eyebrows and an 'I told you so' expression on his face.

You turn away, hands in pockets, a minuscule scowl on your face. You don't _want_ a telepathy bond with Kuroko. You don't like him, and he doesn't like you. If you don't acknowledge it, that means it's not a problem.

The Kise school of problem solving.

The thought wipes any sort of emotion from your face.

Right. You almost forgot where you were going.

The bus ride is full of chatter and Kagami pulls you into the window seat and sits next to you, effectively trapping you. You could push your way out, move to the mostly empty back, but you snatch the timid freshman (who's name you still don't know) jacket from him and cover your head, create your own little bubble of silence and dark. Kagami snorts, but he doesn't bother you.

Anything that happens outside it isn't your problem. You close your eyes and let the vibrations of the bus underneath you and the furnace of Kagami next to you.

You sleep.

* * *

An unknown member of the team - probably a manager, going by the fact she was a girl - meets you all at the gate and leads you to the gym. Or she tries, could find it anyway. You just just have to follow Kagami and Kuroko. The basketball maniacs head towards the sound of dribbling and squeaking shoes like homing pigeons. The rest of the team exchanges a look and follows behind them. The manager trails behind with a dejected look on her face.

Inside the gym, you press your hand to your head, trying to stave off the inevitable headache. The court is well maintained, even though it smells like sweat and teenage boys. The whole team is nearly three times the members of Seirin. A few of them look over the team. You feel eyes on you, but you keep your eyes forward. Kise's fan-club line the upper balconies, a sea of giddy girls. Kajou's team ignores them the way Teikou used to.

The coach is a large man with a pathetic beard and a talent for pissing people off. Within seconds, everyone on the team is seething, frothing like soup left on a stove. It's only a matter of time before they boil over.

For once, none of the team care that you change with them. They're to focused on trash talking the coach of the other team.

You... kinda can't blame them. He did no research at all. Seirin, with a team of first years, nearly made it to the nationals last year. Even with just the original starters, they'd be able to make it difficult for Kaijou. And this asshole wants to practice on half a court?

What a moron.

After changing, Kuroko lets the rest of the team to pass him by, stops you with one hand on the shoulder. **  
**

"Mashiro-san never told Kise where she was going."

You flex your fingers. "Did you?"

His face is blank and very judgmental. "That's rather different."

Different how? Didn't Kise make it clear that he likes Kuroko more than anyone else? Didn't he come to Seirin just to find him, to take him back with him?

"It's really not." You say.

"...Mashiro-san. What would you say your relationship with Kise-kun is?"

"Friends."

 _Siblings._

Though that probably doesn't apply now. A spike of white hot pain rockets up your neck.

You've never seen him so angry.

His blue eyes drill into your black ones. "There are no friends on the court. Mashiro-san must not hesitate."

You roll your eyes. "Have I ever gone easy on anyone?"

 _Please._

You're not the type to tone yourself down just to make people feel better about themselves. If you were, your life would be so much easier.

Kuroko nods once. "That's true." He holds out his hand, and in it is the one of the black wristbands he always wears. "A truce, then."

You look at that pale hand, that black band.

You take it, put it on your left wrist. The opposite side of Kurokos'. It feels heavy on your wrist, a physical reminder of the promise you made, the terms you set. A rope of your own making.

Kise is on the other side of the court An opponent, for the first time in your life.

That's fine.

This is what you're here for.

"Truce." You say.

* * *

The two teams line up in the court, facing each other. The coach sighs. "Alright, lets get this over with. We look forward to -" His eyes stop on you. "You're a girl."

A hush spread on the court.

You glance down at your boobs and then look blankly at him. "Yeah."

His mouth opens and shuts. "You're a girl."

Yeah. Still true. "And your point is..."

"We can't play a girl! You'll get hurt!"

Seirin snorts as one. They know better.

"That sounds like a you problem." You pull your shirt straight, tap your shoes on the gym floor. The rest of Seirin is watching with mild interest, like it has nothing to do with them. They're used to you by now.

"This is ridiculous." The coach snaps. "Do you think this is a joke? Take her out and put a _real_ player in."

Aida smiles, sharp as a blade. "Please stop telling me how to manage my team and worry about your own."

The man nearly goes purple.

"Besides." She shrugs. "If something like this is enough to throw your team off. Well. They don't deserve to win. Do they?"

There's nothing the coach can say to that. He storms off with a thunderous expression on his face; proably going to find a rule against your precnece.

You're not worried. You sent the playbook to your mom and she poured over it with a fine toothed comb. There's no rule against girls playing on boys teams. If he tires force the issue... well. You could bury them in legal issues.

One of the boys broke from the crowd, a dark haired, serious looking one. "My name is Kasamatsu. I'm the captain of the team."

"Hyuuga." The captains says. "A pleasure."

Kasamatsu glances at the coach. "Yeah, I'll bet." His tone was apologetic. "Sorry about him."

Aida smiled. "Don't worry about it. You don't get to choose your coach."

"Ain't that the truth."

You feel eyes on your back and you look up to find him watching you with arms crossed and a frown on his face. "You're really going to play?"

You shrug. "Apparently."

"It might get rough."

A large, warm hand comes down to ruffle your hair. "You don't need to worry about her," Kagami says. "Trust me. By the end, you'll be wishing that she wasn't playing. Ow!"

You twist his skin again. "Don't be so condescending."

"Bitch!"

"Moron."

"Line up!" The other coach cries out.

Kasamatsu shakes his head. "If you say so."

You step out with your team- and the entire building presses down on you with pressure, like you walked into the bottom of the ocean. It's nothing like practice with Seirin, or even one on ones with Nijimura.

Your shoulders stay straight. Your gaze stays calm.

Whatever pressure the world wants to put on you, you can take it.

No gold on the opposite team. You blink and glance over at the bench. Kise vibrates, fingers tap, feet shuffle, eyes glued to the court.

His eyes _burn_.

"Kise's sitting out?" You murmur to Kuroko.

He glances to the side. "We'll just have to make him play."

You adjust the wristband with your teeth. "Right."

Kagami's smile is full of blood thirst. "Well said."

Between you and Kagami, they don't have much of a chance. You interlace your fingers behind your back in a stretch. You and Kuroko never played together as a team.

 _Sink or swim time._

The teams line up. The referee furrows his brows. "Seirin, please call your fifth player -"

"He's right here." You say, gesture at Kuroko with your chin.

The ref blinks and Kaijou jumps, before they exchange glances. You know what they think: Weak, almost transparent.

The referee whistle blows, and then the time for talk is over.

You exhale.

The ball is in the air.

The game starts.

* * *

 **okay so i wanted to get the ball rolling (pun intended) on the match this chapter but then i got super sick and lost all of my free time to sleeping and kagami and hana wanted to bond**

 **eh**

 **also, i was thinking about doing short interludes from the pov of other characters. would you guys be interested in that?**

 **up next: game time**


	11. XI interlude one: gold

**kise pov ahead**

* * *

"Two managers for a team that size? Seirin is lucky."

"The dark haired one is kinda cute."

"She's too boyish. Nah, I prefer the older type."

"Gross, dude."

"Wait - she's on the court. Is - is she _playing_?"

Kise's hands lock together in front of his mouth, and he ignores his teammates chatter.

Hana stands with the rest of her - her _team_. The white jersey is strange against her skin, her dark hair, like the whole world takes a step to the left while Kise isn't looking. It feels like a joke, but Kise can't bring himself to laugh. There's nothing funny about the way Kuroko and the tall redhead bracket her, parentheses around a whisper.

Kasamatsu gets the ball in the toss up, but not for long.

Kuroko knocks it out of his hands, into Hana's grasp.

She leans back, lets a lunge pass by her before she tosses the ball behind her without a single look.

The red head - Kagami - snatches the ball out of the air, blasts down the court with Hana close behind.

Kagami slams the ball home with an ear splitting crack.

The hoop shudders once, then comes clean with the sound of metal on metal.

A hush falls over the gym.

The whole play lasts for a second, ends clean. Hana, Kuroko and Kagami make a horrifying team.

Kise bites the inside of his cheek.

That should be him. Hana and Kuroko, they should have come with him.

"Ah. It broke." Kagami says. He holds the hoop up to his face. "Hey Kuroko, Hana, hoops are bigger than I thought."

Kise even resents the way Hana's name falls out of Kagami's mouth, like he has a right to it, like he's known her long enough.

Too familiar. Kise keeps the snarl off his face through years of practice. He's never disliked someone this fast, this deeply. Indifference comes naturally to him, just like everything else. It feels like sinking into oil.

 _No. Calm down._

This is nothing. Everyone calls Hana by her given name. Kise never heard a single classmate, no matter how distant, call her anything else. It's like an aura of informality around her, stemming from the casual, unshakable confidence she carries like a second skin.

Hana glances over to the bench. Her eyes are dark as always; they look at the world and there's nothing reflected back. Then Kagami slaps her on the back hard enough to rock her backwards. The dark look vanishes into heartbreaking, familiar annoyance.

She says something too low to hear that sends the redhead spluttering.

Kuroko's smile is tiny and gone in a second, but Kise bristles at the sight of it.

"Kise!" The coach calls. "You're in."

The frisson of anticipation climbs up his spine. His team is good, but they're not miracles - against Hana, they don't match up. All of them know Akashi considers her one of them.

Hana glances over the bench. The team ripples where her eyes land, an unconscious flinch at her empty , bored expression. when her eyes hit him - she keeps going. Like he's not there. Like he's smoke.

Something small and cold appears in his heart.

He shakes his head.

Now is not the time.

"You weren't kidding about her." Kasamatsu folds his arms as they watch the janitor repair the hoop. "I couldn't even see her move. How good is she, exactly?"

Kise stretched out his arms behind his head. He'd warned Kasamatsu yesterday, because if he played around Hana like he acted around girls, she'll eat him alive.

Kise steps out onto the court. The girls in the balcony shriek with glee. For once, he ignores them.

"I don't know. I've never seen her play." Kise says. "She doesn't like basketball."

Or she didn't.

"Then how did you..."

He rolls his shoulders. How did he know?

It's Hana.

There's nothing she can't do.

* * *

Kise's first memory goes like this:

The world is a fuzzy blur. The smell of something clean, soft sheets under his grasping hands, his mother's cheerful voice. He turns to find a smudge of black on his right. He blinks and lets go of the sheets, reaches out.

 _Warm._

Curious hands already touch for her dark hair - darker than anything that he's ever scene. It's like all of the light entered but nothing left.

The other child makes a low complaining noise, but Kise is too delighted by this new toy to care, and she eventually settle down and let him play.

Kise is happy, and Kise is safe, and Hana is with him. All's right with the world.

Hana is born a week before him.

He's never lived in a world without her.

* * *

The game drags on, and Kise wipes the sweat from his forehead. Numbers pile up on the board like snow on a roof.

Odd as it is to see Hana in the harsh lights of the court, she handles the ball like she's born for it. Her movements are clean. Unhurried. While the rest of the teams are rushing from defense to offence, Hana watches with dark eyes giving nothing away. A rock, letting the stream flow around it. Unmoved.

"How long can she keep going? Even Kagami looks winded, but she hasn't even broken a sweat." Someone asks.

"If she gets tired," Kise says. "I've never seen it."

The team glance at each other.

Kise pulls around Kagami with a beautiful cut technique, brushes past Kuroko and slams the ball through the hoop in an echo of Kagami's earlier move.

The hoop shudders but holds.

 _Damn._

Kasamatsu must sense something in his voice, because he narrows his eyes. "Don't let your emotions into the game, Kise. We need to focus."

It's like a bucket of water being dumped on his head. Kise looks at Kasamatsu.

The captain raises an eyebrow. "what?"

"...Nothing." He shakes his head, hard.

Kise's looks back at the court and takes a deep breath. This isn't Teikou. He doesn't have the reassuring strength of his invincible teammates behind him, but he's got to live in the moment.

The clock ticks down and Kise forgets, in the heat of the moment, that he's angry.

Hana's as uncompromising at basketball as she is at everything else - no trick plays, no skill, no prisoners.

Just sheer, terrible talent.

(And Kise understands, for a moment why everyone they meet watches Hana with wary, half terrified eyes. She's a _genius_.

He's a mess of sweat and determination, and she has the same bored expression as always.

It's like facing Aomine.

Its like Akashi.

It's terrifying.

 _She's_ terrifying.

Still.)

Kagami looks over him, that savage grin on his face, and Kise can feel the answering smile on his own.

He's never had so much fun.

* * *

He's five years old, and Hana is still taller than him. Kindergarten is scary, but Hana is there so Kise's not afraid. He knows with all the faith of childhood that nothing bad can happen while she's there.

Out among the other children, Kise realizes how… _odd_ Hana is.

She grows, but never changes. She's spoken a handful sentences to him in the five years they've been alive. Her eyes are still too dark, with rings under them, like she doesn't sleep.

Sometimes Kise feels like he's looking at an afterimage — a girl that's been gone as long as he's known her.

Sometimes he wants to ask 'why can't you stay here, with me?'

He never does.

He can't. It's like bringing the question to the surface will break her, pop her like a soap bubble in the sun.

What if she says no?

The other kids notice it too. They look at Kise like an idol, and they look at Hana like a threat. They shy away from her, keep her in the corner of their eyes - until they get used to her.

Then they get _mean_.

Her things disappear, or break. Rumors spread daily. No one quite dares to shove her, but that fades with time. Hana stops speaking in class, because everyone ignores her anyway.

Kids are cruel.

Kise looks at Hana when she holds the shredded scraps of her art project in both hands. He doesn't know what to say. His eyes sting, but _her_ expression never changes.

Neither does the way people treat her.

In elementary she gets better at hiding - or perhaps she just gives up on fitting in. It's easy to meet her eyes through the lens of a camera. She blooms, animates, when she takes photos, so Kise gladly becomes a model. At least he knows she's seeing him.

Sometimes he looks at her and it's like a ghost. He has her hands in a vice grip, but it never seems like enough.

* * *

Kise looks at the scoreboard, eyes stinging, hands clenched, but they don't change. From birth to Teikou, Kise never once lost. Kise looks down at this hands, then over at Seirin. Kuroko. Hana.

He touches his face, and his hands come away wet.

Murmurs drift down from the balcony, rise up from the team, and he can't bring himself to care.

They lost.

... _He_ lost.

He doesn't have the words to describe it. Empty hands. Something bitter on the tongue. A tremor travels from somewhere deep inside of him. Helpless frustration steals his words, his attention. All of the anger is gone, and he feels like a coal about to go out.

Hana is too far away for him to reach.

Kise has never been ' _not good enough_ ' before.

The time for line up is there and by some ugly twist, dark eyes meet Kise's. Hana and Kise stare at each other from across the dividing line.

He moves first, into a bow. "Thank you for the game."

Nothing.

He straightens and hides his trembling fist in his pockets.

"Kise."

He can't help the flinch. Is this the part where she denounces him?

Kasamatsu's broad shoulders appear in front of him.

Kise blinks.

"Good game." He says, and his voice is gruff and unfriendly.

Is Kasamatsu... protecting him? From _Hana_?

Hana's arms across, her face is bland as always. Her eyes flicker somewhere over his shoulder - and on another person Kise would call it hesitation, except Hana doesn't hesitate.

"Thanks. I guess." She says after a while.

He hides his sinking heart with a smile. No explanation? No mention of why she just… left?

Well.

It's stupid to expect anything in the first place.

A tiny wrinkle appears in between her brow. "Wait here."

The abrupt order leaves Kasamatsu and Kise blinking.

Hana crosses over to the bench, snatches the pen out of one her teammates hands and a page of a magazine from another. The rip could be heard across the court - that and the boys tiny, anguished 'nooooo'. Hana ignores it and writes something down on the page; she tosses the pen back to the teammate, too fast to see. It hits him in the head.

Kuroko and Kagami argue about something behind her. Neither of them look over.

None of her teammates do.

Seirin isn't afraid of her.

She comes back to the two of them and holds out the paper. "My new phone number."

Kise stares at the scrap of paper. Thousands of thoughts all rush up at once, collide and tangle to the point of agony. Why did you leave, he wants to scream. Kise thought she was _gone_. He had nightmares of waking up and finding her body, splattered across the ground like a painting.

On bad nights, he woke up half convinced she was just a dream.

The moment drags on. When he doesn't take it, she scratches her head and passes it to Kasamatsu; he blinks at the paper, then turns bright red - a _girl_ just gave him her phone number.

"Well. You know how to reach me. If you want to." Hana shrugs, and it's all Kise can do keep from crying again.

So awkward.

So beloved.

Still, Kise can't say anything. He feels like a rag, wrung out.

"You want it?" Kasamatsu asks, quietly. The locker room is nearly empty. Kise sat on the bench, head down, elbows on his knees, and he hasn't moved in half an hour.

Kise rubs his face. "I don't know. I'm - I'm angry. At her. I can't -"

He glanced up at Kasamatsu. How to explain the sheer helplessness he felt when he walked in the door to find her gone. How young. How vulnerable.

How unsurprised.

That was the worst part. It was like the world itself accepts her erasure, like she's just mist to dissipate in the sunlight.

Kise looks at the world without her, and he knows he can survive it. She's not permanent; she's just passing through. From the first time he looks into her eyes, he knows that she's not - not right. Not all there. She looks, but she doesn't take anything in.

Maybe it's himself he's disappointed in the most. Kise's always been cold, but he's never thought of himself as heartless before.

He's hurt. He's angry.

At himself, most of all.

Kasamatsu shoves him a little. "Just call her and ask why then."

"It's not that."

"Than what is it?"

Kise hesitates, but in the end shakes his head without saying anything. Hana is always… personal to him in a way that nothing else is.

Kasamatsu sighs and stuffs the paper in Kise's bag. "Geniuses and their drama. If you decide you want it, you know where to find me." He claps Kise on the back, hard enough to sting. "Go cool your head, hotshot."

Kise blinks.

The captain scowls at him. "What?"

"You really suck at cheering people up, senpai."

He scowls. "Oh my god, you are the worst. Your fans are all blind. Go wash up like a civilized

person."

Kise laughs and goes.

* * *

Kise tiptoes to Hana's door. Not that it matters - even if she wakes up, she still won't do anything but stare at the wall with blank eyes. They're both thirteen years old and Hana spoken in a week. Every so often she just - shuts down. Bam, the lights are on but nobody's home.

He can't sleep. He can't do much of _anything_ , these days. The dark is oppressive, and Kise's shoulders round.

He feels small.

Alone.

He opens the door to her room. The food on her nightstand is untouched. Hana moved sometime during the night, from staring at the wall to staring at the ceiling. Her dark eyes are vacant. Her chest rises, imperceptibly. She looks like a corpse.

Sometimes, Hana is a stranger. Her perpetual boredom trades itself in for a gray blankness, a perfect mirror of the world. She lives in her head and lets the silence take her place, becomes a silhouette where Kise's sister should be.

Nothing in.

Nothing out.

Not a reaction. Barely even a person.

Like Hana is already gone.

Each day he steels his heart before he walks into the room. Is today the day he finds an empty shell?

Kise's heart clenches. He touched her wrist, waits until he can hear the slow, steady beat of her heart. Just as he can feel the panic welling up inside, she lets out a little exhale and closes her eyes. Hana is so strong, so _herself,_ that he never has any idea what to do about these episodes of listlessness.

Kise lets out a long breath and clenches his shaking hands.

Tomorrow. He'll contact Auntie tomorrow.

She'll know what to do.

* * *

Kise avoids the locker rooms in favor of the sinks outside. He ducks his head under a faucet and sets it as cold as he can. He needs the wake up call.

Of _course_ Hana would win. Partnered with Kuroko, the two of them are unstoppable.

"It was an unlucky day for Geminis. Not that it matters - any monkey could have a dunk festival."

Kise sighs. "What do you want, Midorimacchi?"

Of course, the person he gets along with least is here. All Kise needs to top off this day is for Kuroko to reject him again.

The boy sniffs. He holds a green ceramic frog in his taped hand. "Nothing at all. I happened to be in the neighborhood and stopped by to attend your match. Of course, you were never going to win. It was fate that Gemini would suffer an upset today."

Kise wiped his face with the towel. "Did you come here just to make fun of me?"

Midorima's nose wrinkled. "Of course not. I am not Aomine."

"Then why are you here?"

"Am I not allowed to check out the competition now?"

"Well, you saw it. Now go away." Kise isn't in the mood to talk. He and Midorima were friends, because it was hard not to be when they got shoved into close contact every game - that didn't change Midorima's irritating habits.

Midorima adjusted his glasses, a nervous tick from their Teikou days. "I heard that... that there was a girl on the enemy team. A scary girl."

 _Ah._

"It was Hana." Kise says.

Midorima's fingers flexed. "Hana. That's not possible. She was to attend Rakuzan."

Kise's eyebrows drew down. "She told _you_?"

Why would she tell _Midorima_ and not Kise?

Midorima shifts. "No. Akashi told me before graduation."

Kise blinks. "Akashicchi? Then why is she in Seirin?"

"Perhaps he changed his mind?"

That earns Midorima a look of disbelief. Akashi didn't do mundane things like _make mistakes_ or _change his mind_.

Midorma folds his arms, shoulders stiff. "Well, what do you suggest? Hana turned him down and got away with it? _Akashi_?"

Kise drops his towel.

It became common place to see Hana hang off Akashi. She's always been a physical person, zero shame all the way down. She had a boyfriend so she'd use him like a personal resting post. Kise would know - he performed that duty for three years.

Hana makes Akashi smile.

Would she throw that away, without mercy? Would she?

Kise and Midorima look at each other, the truth hanging between them - because, yes Hana absolutely would.

At Teikou, the students treated Hana and Akashi as part of a whole; the schools number one power couple. No one liked Hana, but they couldn't deny that she fit Akashi, in power and talent. The two of them never fought, but not because Hana was afraid. It's just that Hana and Akashi have similar ideas about life.

If Akashi tried to make Hana do something...

The silence is oppressive.

The sound of someone panting broke through Kise's horror.

Midorima looks just as glad about the interruption in his own constipated way. "Takao. You're late."

"I'm _late_?" The dark haired boy gives a breathless laugh. There's a rickshaw, of all things, hitched to his bike. The whole picture had Midorima stamped all over it. "You're heartless Shin-chan! I can't believe you just left me behind like that." He glances at Kise, a slow up and down.

Kise raises an eyebrow. He can recognize when someone is checking him out.

The boy leans over the bike, crossing his arms and gives Kise a cheerful smile. "Oh? You found your friend. I'm Kazunari Takao. I'm a _big_ fan."

Kise gives the boy an amused smile. He wasn't bad looking, with compact but wiry frame, his hair pulled back out of his dark, sharp eyes, and a badly look of hidden mischief lingering in the corner of his mouth.

"A pleasure." Kise says, tilts his head at an angle he knows catches the sun, makes his gold hair a crown, guilds his skin. He enjoys flirting, so long as that's all it is.

Hana always says -

Kise's smile froze on the edges.

Midorima shifts, and Kise recognizes the first signs of a lecture.

 _Think about it later._

He grins at Midorima. "Missed the nickname? She'll be so flattered."

He narrows his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh nothing, Shin-chan."

Midorima pales. "Do _not_ tell her -"

"Her?" Takao's sharp eyes flicker between them. "Who's her? Shin-chan, do you have a girlfriend that I don't know about?"

Kise places his hands behind his head. "Just the only girl that Midorimacchi is -"

"Shut up. Die." Midorima's glare is a thing to behold. He looks at Takao. "Do not concern yourself with the idiocy that drips out of his mouth. He rarely says anything worthwhile."

Takao's smile is teasing, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "I don't know Shin-chan. I might get jealous if you keep talking about friends I don't know."

Kise blinks.

Oh.

 _Oh._

...Good luck, Takao. Midorima is one of the densests people Kise's ever met - and unlike Hana, it's not that he doesn't care. It's that he genuinely doesn't notice.

Like now.

Midorima sniffs. "It's none of your business. Now we need to leave, or we'll miss practice entirely."

"Leave? Shin-chan, I just got here! I'm exhausted -"

"Shut up. It's good for your stamina training." Midorima sat in the rickshaw without ceremony. He looks like a prince, and Kise can't suppress a smile this time.

God, he's so glad that he doesn't have to deal with that all day.

Godspeed, Takao Kazunari.

"Kise." Midorima says abruptly. "Tell Hana I said that her lucky item is an umbrella." The bridge of his cheeks are a faint pink.

Kise gives him a smile, small but real. For all of Midorima's… quirks, he's still Kise's friend. "Midorimacchi sure is a tsundere."

" _Die_."

* * *

The number in his bag is a stone. Kise feels heavy. He keeps his eyes on the ground on the walk home from school, the pavement and asphalt pass slowly under his feet. He spins a basketball on his fingertip. It gives him something else to focus on.

After three months of fear, his heart can't quite settle down.

Hana, hair short. Dark circles under her eyes. He thinks about that hellish week, sitting at her bedside and counting the space between breaths.

Who takes care of her now?

His mouth goes tight.

"Kise-kun?"

Kise stops, because he can't forget that voice. He turns.

Kuroko. Even after three months of not seeing him, Kise still feels tongue tied whenever his blue eyes look at him. Even now, all of the fame in Japan doesn't compare to having Kuroko's eyes on him.

Kise's mouth is dry.

All of Kise's life, he's been chased. His looks, his talent, his career - he's not modest. He knows his own value. People look at him and they _want_. They always want something.

He doesn't know what to do with Kuroko's sincere _niceness_.

Kuroko looks at him and all he wants is Kise to play basketball with him. He's blunt. He's honest.

Kise wants to die every time Kuroko looks at him. He wants to die when Kuroko looks away.

The rest of Seirin is ahead of Kuroko, loud and happy. A head of blue-black hair by the coach.

Kise, grip white knuckle on his bag, swallows and forces a smile on his face. "Kurokocchi! What amazing timing, what are you doing around here?"

"Coach decided that we should have a team bonding experience." He glances over his shoulder. "I've never seen anyone eat that much in one sitting."

Kise shifts. "Can I borrow you for a bit?"

Kuroko blinks. "Of course."

They chat about meaningless things on the way to a nearby park - well. Kise does. Kuroko listens and responds sparingly. Just like old times.

Kise waves at the few girls who recognize him in the crowd, leaves them with a smile and a wink. He might not find them attractive, but he still likes girls. Growing up with three sisters will do that to a guy. They reach the park before any of them ask for autographs, fortunately.

"Kise-kun is a shameless flirt as always." Kuroko says.

Kise laughs and sits down on a bench. "Be nice Kurokocchi! I can't disappoint my fans, it's rude."

"Shameless. Speaking of which, I saw Midorima-kun."

"You did?"

Kuroko's brows furrow the tiniest bit. "I still don't understand him."

"I don't think anyone does." Kise props his head on one hand. "Seems like he just came to watch today. More importantly, I lost a game, Kurokocchi dumped me again, Hanacchi started playing basketball without telling anyone, _and_ she's going by Mashiro - my high school life is one surprise after another." Kise smiles up at the sky - it's the same color as Kuroko's hair. "I said it because I had nothing to lose, but I really was serious, you know."

"About transferring to your school?" Kuroko hesitates. "...I'm sorry. My place is at Seirin."

And this is the reason that Kise can't kill his feelings. Kuroko and Hana are similar in a lot of ways. However he acts on the surface, Kuroko is resolute as he is kind. Once he decides something no one can move him. For someone like Kise, who drifts through life, that sort of thing is impossible.

"Never mind. I'll live. I do have to ask you, though." Kise looks him in the eye. "Why did you leave without saying anything to us?"

Kuroko's lips pull down. "...To tell you the truth, I don't know."

Kise blinks.

"At Teikou, I was unhappy. Their way of doing things... I hated it. For a long time, I hated it. Hated basketball and anything to do with it." Kuroko looks down at his hands. Calloused fingers, short nails. "Teikou's philosophy was a poison and it was turning me into something I didn't like. So I walked away."

Kuroko... hated basketball?

The words made sense separately, but together turn into something incomprehensible, like saying up was down, or Hana hates photography. Kuroko, who turns himself into a ghost just to play, hated basketball?

Why? Sports were about winning, about being the best. Teikou is the best.

Kise loves Kuroko, but he doesn't always understand him.

"Kise-kun. Did Mashiro-san really not tell you where she was?" Kuroko asks.

Kise laughs, but there's nothing happy about it. "She really didn't."

Kuroko bows. "I have to apologise. It was me who asked her to come with me. I wasn't aware that she didn't -"

"Kurokocchi. Don't worry about it, seriously. When has anyone been able to make Hana do something she doesn't want?"

Kuroko pauses and straightens up. "Never, Kise-kun."

Yeah. If she went, it's because she wanted to. If she stayed, it's because she wanted to.

The two of them watch the players on the court.

"Kurokocchi is happy at Seirin?" Kise asks, finally.

"... Yes. Very happy. Kagami-kun -" Kuroko's hesitation is minuscule. " - and Mashiro-san are strong. Kagami will go far in life. His love for the game is infectious."

Kise can see the truth in his eyes, and he gives him a helpless smile. How would he even argue with that? If Kuroko is happy, if Hana _wants_ to be there -

Kise sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Then I'm glad. But Kurokocchi has to be careful. People like Kagami will leave you behind."

Kuroko stares up at him with blank eyes.

 _People like Hana never stay._

Speak of the devil. A large hand comes down on Kuroko's head. "There you are, you bastard! Are you a little kid? Stop wandering off!"

Kise shifts. "You were listening?"

"Like hell I was!" Kagami glares at Kise. "I don't care how much you like Kuroko, stop kidnapping him!"

"Kidnapping?" Kise pouts. "I was just saying hi to my friend. He came along on his own."

"Kagami-kun is hurting me." Kuroko says, deadpan.

Kuroko looks ridiculous standing by his red haired monster of a teammate, his already short stature made childlike - but Kise can't laugh. Kuroko looks comfortable, in his own understated way. He's already accustomed himself to being in Kagami's shadow.

Defeat is bitter.

Kise smiles. "Kagamicchi is good - but not good enough. Compared to them, I'm still a beginner. You can't defeat the generation of miracles yet. You can't even beat Hanacchi."

Kagami snorts. "Then I'll get better."

And he's utterly serious. Like that's all it takes. Kuroko stands by his side and there's no surprise on his face.

Something inside Kise settles.

Maybe they can do it.

Kise bows to the two of them, serious and formal. "Please take care of Hana for me."

"Kise-kun?" Kuroko's voice is worried.

 _Blank eyes. A girl who might vanish at any moment._

"I wasn't enough." Kise's hands fist at his sides. "I know she seems cold, but she _needs_ people. Please continue to be her friends." He looks up at them.

Kagami sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "You Teikou people have some serious issues. Even if you didn't ask, we'd do it. Hana is our teammate."

"...Yes."

Kise looks up at the sky. Maybe it doesn't have to be all or nothing. Maybe, when the nightmares stop, he'll be able to talk to her without shame.

The number in his backpack feels less like a stone now, and more like a teather.

He thinks about the way her team don't flinch from her. The way Kagami and Kuroko fall into place by her side naturally, where she always walked alone before - and Kise lets himself hope.

Maybe this is enough to save her.

* * *

 **this took forever to edit and i'm still not sure about it. kise is surprisingly hard to write for. let me know if you guys think that i've kept him in character because i'm a little iffy about it.**

 **also happy belated anniversary to horseshoes and hand grenades! its now a year since i started writing this garbage fire! hopefully i'll get more than ten chapters done this next year lol**


	12. XII

One week after the game, you stare out the classroom window, head in your hands.

Your phone is silent. It's been that way.

It was a long shot. With every passing moment you're sure that bridge is thoroughly burned. It opens up an odd pit inside you, a little hole in the bottom of your stomach, and whatever emotions you still have slip out of it without making an impression.

You think you're sad. Probably.

It's hard to say.

"Hana."

You blink and look up. The sun is high overhead.

Aida stands beside your desk. It's barely lunchtime, so you didn't miss practice.

"...Captain." You say.

Kagami twists around to look from you to her. His mouth is stuffed with food. "Is there something wrong? Did basketball practice get cancelled?"

Aida rolls her eyes, but she can't hide the way her eyebrows pinch together, or the worried crease of her mouth. "My teacher asked me to get Hana and bring her to the principal's office."

Kagami's eyes narrow and he looks at you. "What did you _do_?"

Rude. "What makes you think I did something?"

"Please, like I don't know you have _zero shame_. Did you start changing in the middle of a group of students? Trip someone you don't like? Throw a basketball at someone's head for being annoying? Tell a teacher to fuck off?"

"I would never." Your voice is utterly flat.

Kagami throws his hands up. "You absolutely would! I know because I've _seen you_ I still have no idea why you didn't get detention from that teacher, by the way."

You shrug. He might have; you weren't really listening. "He's full of shit."

Aida rubs her forehead. "Hana-chan, you didn't."

The teacher in question is one of those bullied nerds that grow up and think their tragic past makes it okay to take it out on the children they teach. A Snape, basically - one of those assholes who gets off on his perceived power - and is secretly a huge coward. Utterly beneath your attention.

You've too little energy to waste on people like that.

Aids sighs. "Why do I always get the problems students? Whatever it is, we'll find out. Come on, Hana-chan."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes. Unless you want to run fifty extra laps?"

 _Ugh._

So the two of you go.

"Don't let her do _any_ of the talking!" Kagami calls out after you.

You flip him off. He's been weirdly clingy; always nagging you for napping, or not eating lunch. In the last three hours alone he gave you three separate types of breads and five candies. His bag must be bigger on the inside, because you see him pull out three foot long subs as you leave the classroom.

You eat the candies and unload the breads onto the wimpy kid from the team who happened to be walking by.

"U-um, thank you?" He says, arms full of bread.

"Whatever."

Aida glances at you and rolls her eyes without comment.

You head up to the principal's office, and Aida stops outside of it. She puts her hands on either of your shoulders and leans in until your faces almost touch. "Hana. Kagami had a point. Let me do the talking." Her eyes are deadly serious. "I don't need you saying something and getting the entire team banned from the tournament. Okay?"

...Exactly what kind of image does she have of you?

You tilt your head and shrug.

She leans in further. "You promise?"

"Yeah, sure."

Aida smile sparkles when she releases you. "Excellent! Let's go."

She enters the office, and you follow her.

The second you step in, you realize it was a mistake to promise. This isn't a conversation.

This is a tribunal.

The headmaster is an old man with a wimpy mustache, salt and pepper hair, and dark rimmed glasses on the end of his nose. He sits behind a dark wood desk. The name plate in front of him reads Jiro Yamada.

Another two men stand behind him - one you sort of recognize as the gym teacher, and the other?

Snape.

He gives you a nasty, superior smile.

You flick your eyes to the ugly toupee perched on his head, back down to his eyes and give him the slightest upturn of your lips.

 _Please.  
_  
He flushes red.

"There you are, Aida-chan, Mashiro-chan." The headmaster says. "Please take a seat."

Aida steers you to the seat on the left with one hand on your shoulder, then sits neatly on the edge of the chair to your right. "Of course, sir."

The man steeples his fingers in a way he probably thinks makes him look wise. In reality, he looks like an idiot. "Do you know why I called you here today?"

Bullshit complaints? They need a scapegoat? More jealousy disguised as reasonableness?

You lean back in your chair without saying a thing. Contemplate a nap.

You promised, after all.

Aida glances at you. "No, sir."

The man sighs. "We've recently received a complaint from Kaijou, from the coach there for the behaviour of one of your team on the court. You understand how this is a problem? You swore to control your players when we approved your coaching."

Ah. So that's what they go with. Well - the coach was pretty unpleasant. Being defeated by a team with not just one girl, but _two_? One as the coach, no less?

He would obviously make trouble.

You tuck your hands into your blazer pockets. Finger the cool plastic of your phone.

The coach narrows her eyes and leans forward. "That's completely unreasonable, sir. How could Kagami know that the hoop was rusted? It shouldn't be on the team from a neighboring school to monitor the upkeep of their equipment."

The principal blinks. "N-no. That's not what i meant Aida-chan."

Not to mention you already took care of it. One perk to having more money than god.

Aida rubs her chin. "Then, were they talking about Captain Hyuuga? He sometimes gets a little … _excited_ when the game gets rough."

"U-um -"

"Not him either? Well... I honestly have no idea who it could be, then." She looks at you, all puzzled innocence. "Do you Hana-chan?"

You glance at the people behind the desk, then back at the girl sitting beside you.

Is she... helping you?

You don't know what to do with this information, so you just shrug. Stick to your promise.

The principal clears his throat. "I am, in fact speaking about Mashiro-chan."

Aida stares at him with wide eyes. "Hana-chan? Whatever for? She was exemplary in her teamwork and her sportsmanship. What exactly were they complaining about?"

The principal looks behind him, towards the other two and the gym teacher steps forward. "It's not about what she did, Aida-san." The man gives you an apologetic look. He's a good person, but way too serious. "It's about the fact that she, a girl, was playing on the boys team."

The quiet in the room reached absolute zero.

"I'm sorry?" Aida says. Poilite. Friendly. Absolutely not fucking around.

 _You called us up here for_ this _?_

The principal shrinks back - and you don't blame him. If you had any sort of fear response left, you'd be doing the same thing.

 _Aida is scary._

Snape slaps a hand on the desk. "This is not a joke, Aida-chan. The school overlooked your... little coaching team, but it's a different matter entirely to have one of them on the team. What do you do about changing room? How do you explain your loss to your teammates?"

You lean back in your chair, and don't hide your tiny smile.

 _'Little coaching thing,'_ huh?

 _This should be funny.  
_  
Aida's smile gets brighter. "I think you must be confused, Sensei. Hana-cha was a starting player in our game last night - and we won."

He falters but only for a second. "That's _beside_ the point. This farce must stop, or punishments will have to be issued."

Aida looks at the pricple. "A punishment, sir? What for?"

"Is it not obvious?" The man pushes up his glasses. "A girl entering into the boy's team is -"

"- Not against the rules." Aida says, smile still on her face.

The three teachers blink.

Aida stands up, hands behind her back and you sink back into your chair even more - and you take your hands from your jacket pockets.

(Of course you were ready for this. How could these grown ass men allow a _girl_ to upstage their precious team. How could you not know? People always resent you; like this place would be different.

But.

You glance at Aida, back straight, eyes forward, and you think: Maybe.)

She wants you on the team so shell stand in front of you. Even if it's just for your talent, it's still... different. Nice. That you don't have to talk right now.

Is this what it feels like to have a sempai protect you? None of the older students liked being upstaged by you. The only one who was even mildly friendly was Nijimura. Shimada stopped talking to you after you rejected her.

Aida prowls in front of the desk, and maybe this is how she got the school to allow her to coach in the first place. "I can tell that none of you have actually read the rule book; for the school _or_ for the basketball association." She turns to the desk, all of her sweetness gone. " I have. I can assure you, sir, that nowhere in either of them does it say that girls can't play on the boys team. It doesn't make any mention of gender at _all,_ in fact. The girl teams use the exact same rule book."

She looms over the desk, hands bracketing the principle. "When I first planned this team, you gave me full control over the members, training, and match scheduling, did you not?"

He glances at the coach - who nods slightly.

Aida smiles like a shark that's scented blood. "Has that changed? Is my team, who made it to nationals in their first year, unsatisfactory?"

"N-no -"

"Excellent!" She stood up straight and clapped her hands together, all sense of pressure gone in a flash. "I'm so glad that we cleared this up! Now, Hana-chan and I have class in a few minutes, so we'll get out of your way, sir."

The headmaster slumps down in his chair, beads of sweat roll down his face. "Th-that should cover everything..."

"You can't be serious!" Snape folds his arms. "We've solved _nothing!_ How sure are we that Mashiro can even handle being around the boys? She'll distract them from their games. The school will be a laughingstock!"

The coach crosses his arms. "That's true. Girls simply don't have the stamina that boys do. I'm afraid that she'll get hurt."

Aida waves her hand, brushes their comments away. "I understand your concern, Kira-sensei, but I don't give my players special treatment. Hana-chan has completed all of the same exercises that the boys have, without a problem. I doubt that she'll have any issue with the rest of the training. Besides - it's not like we're playing _football_. Head-on collisions in basketball are rare."

The coach nods thoughtfully. "That's very true. Very well, Aida-chan. I'm sure that you know what you're doing."

"Sir, shouldn't we at least have a clause? What if she gets hurt, wouldn't it be better to have the school not be implicated in it?" Snape glares at you.

The principle frowns in thought. "That might be good. We could have a trial period for her."

"Unless," Aida leans forward. "You plan to have the entire team sign it, I would have to object. Like I said - My players do not receive special treatment. Of _any_ kind."

And, for the first time, Jiro meets your eyes.

You let your apathy show. If he tries to make you sign anything, you'll just have Nori go over it. Kise's other sister trains under your mom at her firm. If they try to slip any bullshit into your contracts, you'll sue them so hard that a cardboard box to live in would be a luxury.

The headmaster's skin goes the color of sour milk, and he looks away to glare at Snape. "Be quiet! I don't know why you had to make such a big fuss over this. It's not breaking any rules. Let the girl play - if she gets hurt, she gets hurt. There's nothing we can do outside of forbidding it, and that would be -"

"Very unwise." Aida says.

The headmaster pinches the bridge of his nose. " _Yes_. Mashiro, Aida, you're dismissed. Go back to class."

You push yourself up from the chair, put your hands in your pockets and don't bother to hide the jaw cracking yawn.

The coach gets your arm in a vice grip, pulls you down into a bow with her, and drags you out of the office.

Aida punches your shoulder, and you let yourself rock with it.

"Ow." You say.

She rolls her eyes. "It's almost lunchtime for your class. Let's go get you back to Kagami; I can't trust you to not make trouble on the way."

You let her steer you along placidly. "Is he my keeper now."

"Looks like!"

Wonder what Kagami will say to that.

* * *

"Why is Hana suddenly my problem?" Kagami's face scrunches up. He's still eating. "Shouldn't Kuroko be the one to keep an eye on her? Light and shadow, that whole shtick?"

Aida rolls her eyes. "Don't be dense, Kagami-kun. You know Kuroko would just add to the chaos."

"...Goddammit. You're right. Why is it always me that has to be the voice of reason? I didn't ask for this!"

You stare out the window, leave them to their conversation. Your eyelids are concrete blocks, and the classroom is an ocean. You sink fast, down and down and down. Light goes fuzzy, words come from the opposite side of a glass wall. You press your hands into the desk, but it's like touching with oven mitts, muffled.

How many hours of sleep have you gotten this week? Three? Four?

Maybe less.

For once you can't wait for the end of class, to find somewhere to sleep. When you crash, you crash hard. The dark waits underneath with grasping hands, dark claws catch at your shoulders and pull you down, until all you can do is stay.

All you want to do is stay.

And yet. Every time, you claw your way up.

You wake up. Exhausted. Beating heart. Stabbing light. Heavy hands. Alone.

Empty thoughts, except for one: _Oh_.

 _This again._

Sleeping... isn't _safe_ , lately.

(Kise is safe.

Akashi is - was - safe.

The rest of the Miracles were occasionally alright to nap around for an hour or two. Midorima would glare at you the entire time - but he always waited for you to wake. Aomine would join you on the floor for his own nap. Murasakibara would stack snacks on your head, or doodle things on your arms, like the lunch menu for his favorite dessert shop.

Momoi - You don't know. You never feel tired around Momoi.)

You're so exhausted, sometimes you stare at the phone with dry eyes and try working up the will to pick it up. Call someone. Anyone.

You never do. For all of your talent, people are foreign and strange, and you don't want to deal with the inevitable repercussions. Doctors. Therapists. Trying to explain to people who want you to live how much you wish nothing loved you at all. How you want to reach into their brains, scoop out the memory of your life, and throw it away, skipping a pebble across a pond.

If there was a single, solitary chance at never existing, you would give everything you had for it.

You give in, because you always do. Sit down at the desk in front of Kagami - it's not your desk, but why the hell would you care? - cradle your head down in your arms.

You can feel a full on shutdown coming. The tournament is next week.

You can't afford it.

The dark swallows you.

The sigh you let out sounds like relief.

* * *

Crows call outside the window, but that's not what wakes you. It's the sensation of eyes on the back of your neck.

Slowly, you turn your head in your arms - and meet Kagami's eyes. He sits in the desk beside you, papers spread across it. Homework. Basketball magazines. Ignored in favor of staring at you like a creep.

You glance around the room. All the other students are long gone.

 _Why is he still here?_

"I was going to go home, but - Did you know that I had to scare three groups of students away from wrecking your bag? All different." The desk creeks under his hands. "All of them were confused when I wouldn't just… let them. Like it was normal to harass you."

Yeah. That's why you don't sleep at school. Not where anyone can find you.

"...And you're not surprised."

You sit up, and like always, your body feels no ache from the awkward position it slept in. "Nope."

"Hana."

You look up.

 _Oh._

Kagami's face is calm, but his red eyes are livid. Boiling.

"This shit… how long have you been dealing with it on your own?"

Silence hangs in the air. You blink.

 _What?_

"How else was I supposed to deal with it?" You ask, honestly confused.

It was your problem. You have to solve it. You've been solving it, as long as you've been alive. It's just that you've had no energy to deal with them so far, so they've piled up like snow on a sidewalk.

He stands up from his desk and begins pacing. "I don't know, tell a teacher? Your parents? Your friends? Hell, tell the coach!"

You tilt your head. "Why?"

"W-why? Because shit like this isn't okay -"

"No," You say. "Why do you care? No one else ever has."

Kagami stops mid pace. Turns to look at you. "You're telling me," he says slowly. "That this has happened before?"

You feel like you're missing half this conversation. You don't like it. You give him a sarcastic smile. "Got it in one. Amazing." You look down and note the missing buttons on your uniform. Guess they already got you, before Kagami caught them. You shrug internally.

"Man, you're so messed up." Despite his words, Kagami sounds more resigned than anything.

He stands up, sweeps his papers into his bag, haulsit over his shoulder and looks at you. He makes a face. "You're just going to go back to sleep if I leave you here, aren't you?"

You yawn. "Signs point to yes."

"That's what I thought. Come on, get up, we're going to get something to eat."

Your brow wrinkles. That sounds like a lot of work.

Kagami doesn't give you a choice. He pulls you to your feet, grabs your bag and tows you out of the classroom like a child on a leash.

You look at his hand, engulfing your wrist.

It's bizarrely warm.

* * *

You find yourself sitting in the same booth at the same Maji Burger. Deja vu.

"Do you not know any other restaurants?" You poke at the burger in front of you with less enthusiasm than you go to basketball practice.

Kagami glares at you. "It's good!" He says around a mouthful of food.

"It's has the nutritional worth of cardboard."

...You might be a food snob. The thought of putting something this heavy in your mouth right before sleep makes your stomach roil.

That's normal, though. Even thinking about eating makes you exhausted most of the time. You live on convenience store snacks, rice balls, and whatever Kagami forces on you throughout the day. It's not that you're picky; it's that you can't even work up the energy to be hungry most of the time.

 _Still._

You know good from bad, and Maji Burger is firmly on the side of bad.

Except for the vanilla milkshakes, anyway.

Speaking of, you raise your head and meet a pair of familiar ice blue eyes.

Kuroko stares at you and Kagami with no expression. Kagami hasn't notice him yet, too busy devouring his food. You're not even surprised that he's here. You just forgot.

If he wants you to leave, he'll be very disappointed. Your feet feel like concrete blocks taped to the end of your legs. Standing is more effort than you want to go through.

A small eternity passes before Kuroko's mouth goes firm, and he nods like he's made a decision.

Then he walks over and sits.

Next to you.

You look at him with narrowed eyes.

 _What?_

You suddenly don't understand anything.

Kuroko is very obviously not paying attention to you. "Kagami-kun's appetite is impressive as ever."

"Shut up Kuroko - Kuroko?" Kagami nearly chokes on a burger. "Kuroko! When did you get here?"

"Kagami-kun sat down next to me." Kuroko says with a straight face.

Your tiny snort escapes before you can stop it.

Both of them look at you.

"Hana! You can see Kuroko, why didn't you warn me?"

"I thought you sat down on purpose." You say.

Kuroko's eyes widen minutely, like he doesn't expect you to play along, before he turns back to his milkshake. "Kagami-kun should pay more attention to his surroundings."

"Yeah, Kagami-kun." You say.

Kagami throws his hands up. "No. Quit that shit."

"I have no idea what Kagami-kun is talking about." You say, blank faced.

His horrified eyes flick between you and Kuroko. "Holy shit. It's contagious."

Kuroko sits by your side. It's midnight. You don't know if Kise will ever contact you again. You don't know if tomorow will be worse.

For now...

...You're okay.

* * *

 **ayyy im here**  



	13. XIII

You yawn, lean against the bus window and let it rattle you a bit more awake. It's been a week since the last full game, and that's not nearly long enough.

Two full games in one day.

Hopefully, you won't be playing. Right before the team left, Coach calls you over with a grim look on her face.

"I don't want to do this, but I think we should let you sit this next one out." She glances over her shoulder. "It's not that I don't trust your skills, but Kagami isn't quite up to par yet. I want to give him more experience with being the anchor of the team. Plus," She looks you in the eyes. "We're going to need you for the match after that. Shūtoku isn't a pushover and I need you to be at your best game for that."

You tilt your head. You don't get tired, except for mentally. This body just keeps going, no breaks required.

In the end, you shrug. "Alright."

Anything that gets you out of playing is alright by you.

Kagami elbows you in the side. "Don't yawn, you'll make me tired." And he splits into a yawn himself. His eyes are bloodshot again.

"Stayed up all night. Bakagami."

What an idiot.

"Shut up!"

"Kagami-kun's habits are... interesting." Kuroko sits on Kagami's other side. There's a book in his hands, but the twitching of his fingers gives away his mental state.

Kagami scowls. "I don't want to hear that from you! Like I can't tell when you stayed up all night."

"Whatever makes Kagami-kun feel better."

You close your eyes and let the chatter of the team wash over you, a sort of half doze. The bus ride lasts half an hour and you sleep for most of it. Pretend the life around you happens to someone else. The team struggles off the bus, with you, Kagami and Kuroko bringing up the tail. Coach waits for the three of you to catch up before she heads after the team. What, does she think that you're going to start a scene, just because you're the three newbies?

You pause. Look at Kagami, a red haired giant. Kuroko, a terrible influence and chronic instigator. And you.

...she might have a point.

The teams go to the same locker rooms, and it's like something broke in the teams brains the last match. They wait for Riko to leave, then start changing. You stand in the middle of the room, hands in your pockets eyes glancing over the bare skin, bored. You've already got your uniform on. It's not like you're going to be playing.

Midorima is here, right?

"I'm going." You say to Kagami.

Kagami, who's in the middle of pulling on his jersey, pauses still halfway through. "You're not starting?"

"Nope. It's all on you. And Kuroko, I guess."

Kuroko looks at you. "Mashiro-san."

The wealth of warrieness in his voice inspires a flicker of surprise. Why is he…?

 _He thinks you're breaking your promise._

Running away.

Heat, a splash of molten rage breaks through the apathy for one heartbeat. The glance you give him is acid. "Argue with the coach if you want. It wasn't my choice."

Have you _ever_ broken a promise?

Kuroko flinches back.

Than the apathy sets back in and you exhale. It's logical. You haven't exactly hidden your distaste for the game.

Still.

Is a little faith too much to ask?

The thing is: You are little more than a lie. This skin, this body, this skill - none of it belongs to you.

You may be a lie. You don't have to be a liar.

"If you two are going to have a conversation, do it out loud." Kagami steps between you, breaks the stare off. "Did… coach really decide that me and Kuroko are supposed to work together?"

You look away from Kuroko. "Yeah."

He looks at you, and his eyes are strangely clear. "Do you think we can do it?"

Your mouth pulls down. Why is he asking you? "Yes? Just lean on Kuroko. He's a veteran at the game by now."

Kagami runs a hand through his hair. "Okay. Okay, I can do this."

Whatever. You wave over your shoulder.

"Wait! You got your phone on you?"

You give Kagami a blank look. Worse than _your actual mother._ "I'll be back."

"Yeah yeah. If you're late the coach will skin you!"

You wave over your shoulder and leave the room.

You don't look at Kuroko when you leave.

* * *

You wander for a while, let your feet do the thinking. The building big place but not Teikou big. Everywhere you go is filled with basketball players. A lot of sweaty, loud, stupid boys.

Of course, it's not like Midorima is hard to spot. You find him twenty minutes in. Tall, green haired, pissy expression, holding a glass sculpture of… an anime character? Wearing that god awful orange uniform. Yeah. That's him.

What a nerd.

You tuck your hands into your pockets. "Hey Shin-chan."

Midorima pushes his glasses up. "How many times have I told you not to call me that Takao -" His eyes land on you and go wide.

You raise an eyebrow. Takao, huh? "Miss the nickname, Shin-chan? I'm flattered."

His ears flush a dull red and his mouth shuts with a click.

"Akashi would be so proud." You muse.

"Shut up! Go die!" And there's the tsundere you know and almost like.

"Midorima this is not the time to be chatting up girls." One of his teammates broke into the conversation. He's tall and blonde, with a unpleasant frown on his face. He stares down at you and you meet his eyes without flinching.

Midorima bristles. "Captain Miyaji, she belongs to another school -"

The captain rolls his eyes. "Relax, freshman. I'm not going to discipline the member of another team."

You snort.

He glares at you again. "Unless she's really fucking annoying."

You give him a once over and shrug. You've fought worse. "I can take you."

Midorima whirls on you. "And you! Do not antagonize my team!"

You stare at him, blank face, then look over to his teammates. Ugly orange and all. Guess Midorima really has settled in. "Whatever, Shin-chan."

"Why are you even here? This is a basketball tournament, not a photo - " He looks over you and frowns. "...Where is your camera?"

For one second your neck becomes too light.

It's been three months since you picked up a camera. Your hands flex. Something like longing coats the inside of your throat.

Midorima's aim is good as ever.

You shrug, tap the words sewn into your shoulder. Seirin High. "I'm playing."

A ripple of noise comes from Midorima's team. You both ignore them. This is Miracle business.

Midorima stares. "...Kise said as much, but I thought it was merely his idiocy taking control of his mouth again."

It's your turn to blink. "You talked to Kise talked about me?"

"Of course." Midorima's mouth goes pinches and his words come out like they physically hurt him. "You and Akashi -"

"Eh? Who's the girl, Shin-chan?" A boy comes down the hallway, a bag slung over his shoulder. He's got black hair and a headband. He leans on Midorima and looks you over with sharp eyes.

"Takao, do not -"

Too late. You can feel the smile spread over your face. "Guess you really did miss the name, Shin-chan."

Takao blinks. His eyes dart from you, to Midorima, back to you again and you can't read him. The smile on his face takes on a slightly wicked quality. "Oh. _Oh_. Is this your _girlfriend_ , Shin-chan? The one that model guy talked about?"

The whole team gasps behind him.

Midorima buries his face in his hands.

You blink.

"Midorima, you have a girlfriend, you bastard?" One of the older boys cries out.

"I do not!" Midorima snaps.

Huh. The senpai mercilessly rib Midorima - who actually responds, beyond a cold stare and dismissive snort.

You cross your arms. Maybe he has grown up a little.

Takao watches the chaos with his hands behind his head and a sly grin on his face. It doesn't reach his eyes. You watch Takao watch Midorima.

 _Hmm._

"Seriously? How the fuck would Midorima get a girlfriend?" Someone asks.

You tilt your head. "Shin-chan is very good with his hands."

Beautiful silence. Takao chokes. The looks on their faces almost gives you the energy to lift the corners of your mouth.

A taped hand covers your mouth before you get a word out, and you look up. Consider biting.

Midorima is bright red and getting close to purple. "I - You - "He gives up with a strangled noise. "Hana. _Do. Not._ "

What a prude.

Instead of biting, you lean all of your weight on him, because walking is just too much trouble sometimes.

Midorima holds you up without any apparent effort. Boys got biceps for days. He uses his other hand to push up his glasses again. "Captain, I must speak to my... acquaintance."

The captain pinched the bridge of his nose. "We have a game in ten minutes and you want to go feel up your girlfriend?"

Without looking, you know Midorima bristles. "I'm _not_ \- never mind. It's useless talking to you imbeciles. Consider it one of my requests."

The captain waves the two of you off. "Fine. You have five minutes, and if you're not back by then, I'm coming to find you." And you won't like it, the undertone of his voice says.

You blink slowly, once. They really think you're going out with Midorima.

 _Weird._

You give the team a half salute. Midorima snorts and pulls you away, mouth still covered. Takao takes half a step forward after you. His eyes don't leave the hand on your mouth.

He's got it, bad. Go Shin-chan. You kinda wish Akashi was here, just for the havoc potential. Then the door shuts behind you, cutting Shūtoku off from your sight.

Not a second later, a wave of pure noise bursts, chasing your heels like a dog.

Midorima cringes and speeds up.

A bubble of something almost amused rises in you and the corners of your lips lift.

Yeah. Midorima is always fun.

You let Midorima drag you to unused side room, let you go, and shut the door. He'd never do anything as undignified as lean against the door in exhaustion, but it's obvious he wants to.

You pull his hands off your mouth. "A private area too have your way with me? How dastardly, Shin-chan."

" _Die_." Midromia says.

The room is clean, if a little dark. One of the two strip lights on the ceiling is out, and the other flickers gently every so often. Midorima's sneakers squeak on the clean tile floor. He turns to face you.

The quiet in the room stretches. You watch him straighten his already impeccable uniform and touch the glass anime character. He looks at you and opens his mouth - and then shuts it with a snap.

You wait.

Finally his mouth pinches like a housewife who found a rat in her pantry. "Normally, I am not one to pry into the affairs of my acquaintances," He says, like he and Kise and Aomine didn't have their little gossip parties. "But. It has come to my attention that you have - that is, you and Akashi may have -"

"Small words Shin-chan." You say.

He glares. "Shut up. What exactly happened between you and Akashi?"

Akashi?

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just answer the question."

You shrug. "I dumped him."

Midorima staggers to the wall like your words have physical weight. "...dumped him.." His voice is weak. "...those poor students. Is the school even standing by now… is it too late for them?"

You tilt your head and watch him mutter to himself, mildly entertained.

"Okay. This can still be salvaged." He crosses the room and grabs you by the shoulders and stares you in the eyes. "Tell me exactly what happened, and I'll try to do damage control. Maybe some of the Rakuzan students can still be saved."

"You make it sound like he's going kill them."

"Perhaps the old Akashi would not. With the way he is now…" Midorima sighs and his exhaustion is visible. "He's not the same."

You look out the window into the blue sky. Think of red and gold and walking away. The loss of an easy smile on a boy you almost liked.

 _Kuroko's eyes, unforgiving. The accusation in them._

 _You could have stopped this._

"Yeah." You say, to Midorima and to the past. "You're right."

Regret is the reflection of the moon in water. You reach for it, but you can't pick it up. Can't feel it.

Still selfish, still detached. It's all you have, in the end.

Out of the corner of your eye

The ringing goes on for a few more moments.

You look at Midorima. He gives you annoyed glance. "Well?"

Seeing your blank face, he sighs like you're giving him a migraine. "Hana. Answer your phone."

It still takes a moment to sink in. Tilt your head and listen.

Yup. That is sure coming from your pocket. It probably says something that you forgot your own ringtone. You don't get calls. Slowly, you reach into your pocket and pull out the phone. The screen is lit up.

It's not Kise.

Something bitter rises up in your throat and you can't help the mocking smile that crosses your face.

 _Disappointment._

How hypocritical.

The bitterness eats through the dam holding your apathy back, because its like something inside you breaks and you go under. Pull back from the world. A thick curtain falls between you and it, and your emotions leave your mouth like a last breath.

"Ah." You say, quiet. You never notice you have emotions until they leave. How familiar.

"Are you going to let it ring forever?" Midorima's snappish voice breaks your thoughts.

Face blank, you click answer.

"HANA WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU - "

You pull it away from your ear just as fast, but you can still hear Coach yelling from the length of your arm. You wait until the noise stops. Then you bring it back to your ear.

"Are you done?" You ask.

Aida growls. "Get your ass back here! Teams aren't supposed to be wandering around! Plus," her voice goes quiet. "I think we might need you."

That was quick. "Understood."

"Good. Hurry up."

 _Click._

You turn off the phone, stare at the far wall for a moment.

How did she know your phone number?

You sigh. A question for later. For now, you had a game to attend.

 _Joy._

Midorima raises an eyebrow. "Your team."

"Yeah. Duty calls."

He checks his own phone. "I too have been summoned back. Next time you will tell me what happened, Hana. I can't perform damage control on Rakuzan without knowing the full story."

You roll your eyes. "Akashi's a big kid. You don't have to clean up after him, you tsundere."

"I am _not_ a tsundere - I don't know why I bother. You never listen." Abruptly he points at you with his phone. "Give me your number."

You tilt your head and look at him through your eyelashes. "How forward, Shin-chan."

He gives you a look. Midorima never does anything by halves. His normal tsundereness falls away like it never existed. Shame? What a joke. "Don't be obtuse, Hana. Stupidity doesn't work as well on you as it does on Kise."

Kise talks about you.

A hiccup in your apathy. The feeling sits heavy in your stomach.

You pull out your phone and hand it to him; he registers your number with efficiency.

"There. You will be telling me what happened exactly." He says when he hands the phone back.

With that he turns and opens the door.

"Hey." You say, on a whim. "Give me Takao's number."

And Midorima trips over his own feet.

 _Huh._

He whirls on you, eyes narrow. "You want. _What_."

You shrug. "He's cute and I'm single. Why the hell not, you know?"

"My teammate is not - not some sort of distraction, and I will not paint a target on his back for your amusement!" You can almost see Midorima's green hair bristling. "Any boyfriend of yours will be subject to both Kise and Akashi's scrutiny. Absolutely not. I need him for the game - No. I refuse." He points at you. "Do not flirt with Takao. Or anyone on my team, for that matter!"

With that he storms to the door, throws it open, and stalks off without looking back.

"You 'need him', huh?" You ask the closed door.

 _Godspeed, Takao._

* * *

Back at the bench, you look at Kagami's head, hanging low. Looks like Kuroko is taking care of things out on the court. You came back for nothing.

"Dumbass." You slouch down next to Kagami. "Who gets tricked into fouling four times in a row?"

He shoves you and you rock with the motion. "Like you could do any better."

You shrug. If you were going to get fouled anyway, might as well do as much damage as possible. You look at the other team.

A few broken bones never killed anyone.

You keep your mouth shut.

Coach would probably disagree.

Kuroko absolutely would, but he already hates you - no loss there.

"I don't like the look on your face," Kagami says, scooting a little bit away from you. "You're thinking something evil, aren't you?"

"Who, me."

"...That tone is not convincing, just so you know. Hana, do _not_ maim the other team."

You sigh. "Not even a little bit?"

"No! Shit, where's Kuroko - oh right. The game. Why is he always busy when you're being homicidal?"

"He's got survival instincts."

"What, and I don't?"

You look at the space that magically cleared around you the moment you sat down - though it's smaller than you're used to - then back at Kagami and raise your eyebrow.

Kagami scowls back. "Shut up and watch the game."

You shrug and do so.

He seriously reminds you of Aomine most days, but slightly - more vicious. More feral. Maybe that's why he gets along with Kuroko so well. Maybe that's why he's not scared of you.

Kuroko is harder to see on the court, from the sidelines. He puts his whole focus into disappearing, to the point where even you have to concentrate to see his actions. After three weeks of playing, it's odd to watch him from further away.

You lean forward. See him slip around another of the opponents defenders. His skill is no joke, and hard won. Kuroko's hate isn't abnormal, but you understand it more than others.

If he had your talent, what would he have done with it?

 _Anything._

Instead of your nothing at all.

You look away from the teams. The world is unfair and you're not going to feel sorry for anyone. Instead you look at the coach. "How did you have my number?"

She doesn't look away from the game, biting her thumb. "I didn't. I was using Kuroko's phone."

That answers nothing. You... never gave Kuroko your number. Why would you want to talk to him more than you have to?

The game drags on.

The coach sits on the edge of her seat the entire time, leaping to her feet with a cheer at the end of the game in Serin's victory. The teams bow to each other and seperate to head to their locker rooms.

You tilt your head. "Was it really that close?" You ask the captain.

Hyuuga blinks. "Did you not see us almost lose?"

You frown. They were sort of ... slow, weren't they?

Kuroko stepps to Hyuuga's side, a towel around his neck. "Mashiro-san is used to the miracles. They are quite good for this age."

You glance at the court behind you. If this is considered good, you dodged a bullet. They're dull. _Slow_. The martial arts angle is a little interesting but...

 _Boring._

You shrug, dismiss them from your mind. At least the next game is against Midorima. That might be at least a little interesting.

A heavy gaze on the back of your head. You turn and meet Kuroko's eyes.

 _Cold_.

"Sometimes," Kuroko says, quiet. "I think Mashiro-san is far too much like Aomine-kun."

 _The only one who can beat me is me._

It's not a compliment.

You shrug, but your shoulders feel stiff. "You're not wrong."

Kuroko exhales and the anger visibly drains his face. His hands uncurl from fists. "But then I know that you're not. You work hard. When you want to."

The declaration settles over the room and you pause. Stare at him.

"...I don't know how to react to that." You finally say, for lack of anything better.

His fliker of amusement is strange.

You... did that. You made Kuroko smile.

"No." Kuroko says. "I don't suppose you do."

You look down at the uniform that Kuroko shares. With and red, matching yours. If feels like you're standing on something dark and unstable. Who knows when it'll collapse under your feet?

Your eyes land on the back band around your wrist. Kuroko's sweatband.

A truce.

And the world settles down into lines that make sense again. Kuroko isn't one to break his word. Maybe this is his way of trying.

You look to Kuroko and raise an eyebrow. "By the way, how did you even get my cell number?"

He's blank faced as always, mouth a straight line. "Momoi-san gave it to me."

 _...Momoi?_

The obvious question withers on your tongue before you can get it out.

It's Momoi. Finding out someone's phone number is child's play. Even Akashi acknowledged her information gathering skills.

The question isn't how she got the number.

The question is _why_.

As in, why bother?

You were rude. Prickly. Incapable of sympathy. You didn't go out of your way to talk to her, nothing like her giggling group of friends.

You look at Kuroko. "Why would she..."

He looks as confused as you feel. "Momoi-san takes very good care of her friends."

Friends?

"But we're not?" The words escape before you can catch them.

He pauses. "Not what?"

You can't stop the uncomfortable, almost plaintive tone to your voice. It feels like something electrical is crawling just under your skin. "Friends. We're not really friends."

You and Kuroko. You and the Miracles. You and Momoi.

He actually turns to look you in the eyes. "Please do not say that to Momoi-san. She may cry and I will not help you with the fall out. Besides, it was Mashiro-san herself who said she may call you by name."

You rub the back of your neck. "Everyone calls me by name."

" _I_ do not."

You give him the look that deserves. "That's because you despise me, Kuroko."

He opened his mouth - and closed it. A small frown crossed his face. "I... would not call it something as strong as that."

You snort. "Whatever. Back to my point. Why would Momoi want to keep an eye on me?

You're not Aomine, or Kuroko -

And reality breaks through.

 _Kuroko._

Obviously Momoi keeps track of her crush, not to mention the people around him. Momoi would scope out potential rivals, not matter how slim a chance it is. That's just how she is.

Despite all that, a flicker of something - something like a candle flame, warm and bright, lights inside your chest. It's nice that... even after you stop interacting with the Miracles, Momoi cares enough to - keep an eye on you.

Even if it's just because of Kuroko.

"Mashiro-san." Kuroko's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you look at him.

He's standing by the door, arms stiff by his sides. "I wished … I wished to apologize for my behavior earlier. I understand that you take your promises very seriously. I didn't mean to belittle that."

You stare at him.

He looks down at the band around his wrist. His mouth goes firm. He looks up at you. "I will try to do better in the future."

"...Okay." You say, for lack of anything better. That seems to be happening lately.

He nods once, and steps out of the door. "I will be waiting on the court."

You're left in an empty locker room, alone.

The fuck was _that?_

* * *

 **midorima is such a nerd omg**

 **also kuroko dont fuck around with his promises**

 **momoi status: _soon_**


	14. XIV

"Midorima's girlfriend is... a player?" Takao points at you, eyes wide.

You look down at your uniform. That sure is a jersey. You look at Midorima with eyes full of pity. What a shame that he was stuck with stupid teammates.

"Girlfriend?" Huyuuga says, voice incredulous. Everyone ignores him.

Midorima pinches the bridge of his nose. "Obviously. Idiot."

"Boo, Shin-chan. How was I supposed to know that?" Takao pouts. "I've never seen a girl play in the boy's league."

You catch Kuroko's blink out of the corner of your eyes. He looks at you and tilts his head a Takao, who's hanging off Midorima. Midorima, who's letting him.

You shrug. You didn't give Takao the nickname.

"Is everyone going to ask that?" Kagami cracks his neck. "It's getting old. Like Seirin gives out jerseys to anyone."

"Not everyone is accepting as Kagami-kun." Kuroko notes. "They do not understand."

You shrug. "Yet."

Kuroko's lips turn up slightly. "Yet."

Kagami rolls his eyes at you. "Don't act like it has nothing to do with you when it's literally all about you."

"Of course she's a player." Midorima snaps. "Did you think that Hana would really take care of anyone? Also, she isn't my girlfriend!"

"It's kind of hard to take that seriously when you call her by her first name, Shin-can." Takao says, a smirk on his face.

The other team continues to tease Midorima, missing the way Seirin freezes as one; then turns to look at you.

"Something to share with the class, Hana?" Hyuuga says with a menacing glint to his glasses.

You look over to the impatient reff. "Oh look, it's time to play basketball."

"Don't change the subject, freshman!"

The whistle saves you from having to say anything else. The ref cuts short the chatter and the teams line up, with Kagami on your side to catch the toss up.

Still, a heavy pair of eyes remains on you.

You glance at Kuroko. What's his deal?

"I can't believe you'd be so callous to your boyfriend, Mashiro-san." He says, utterly flat. "I am disappointed in you."

His voice is low, but the whole gym hears it - and you can tell by the way Midorima splutters on the other end of the court. " _Kuroko_ -"

You look at Kuroko, face deadpan. Then you turn to Midorima and blow him a kiss, face still blank.

He goes beat red.

You look back at Kuroko. "Better?"

"Much." He says, and even you can see the spark of mischief in his eyes.

Whatever else he says is cut off by the toss up of the ball. All of the mirth drains out of him, replaced by the burning of intensity.

Kagami jumps, leaves the ground so far behind it's a wonder he ever comes back down.

The ball is in motion.

The game begins.

* * *

You know from the first exchange that you're better than Midorima's team. It's not that they're bad - in fact they're leagues better than the team before, and it's not - they're not terrible, not really. But you're still not being challenged. Takao knocks the ball out of Kuroko's hand and the rest of the team gasps. Midorima makes point after point, machine precision. You... coast. Match yourself to Seirin's pace, even if it feels like moving through deep water.

At least Kagami looks like he's having fun.

Half time comes and again, the rest of the team is a sweaty mess and you're just... fine. Physically, you're at one hundred percent. No effort required.

Aida notices it too. She stares hard at you, and you can almost see the numbers running in her head. "Hana, how many matches do you think you could play in a row?"

Hyuuga looks over, towel around his neck.

You look up from where you're sitting by the wall, hands behind your head. "I don't know." You say, with a shrug. "A few."

"Seriously?" Hyuuga says.

Aida adds up the numbers in her head - and instead of the half-afraid look you expect, you know is coming, her mouth curved in a smile. "Perfect. I want you to cover Takao."

You blink. "Not Midorima?"

She waves her hands. "The best way to shut down a shooter is to simply - not give them the ball. Kagami and Kuroko can handle the rest."

Huh. You shrug. "Kay."

A large, sweaty came down on your head. "Nevermind your evil scheming. Are you really dating that prick in the glasses?" Kagami slumped down next to you and looked over to Shukoto. "He's carrying around like... an anime girl thing."

Itsuki cranes his head. "What, really?"

"Yeah. It's giving me the creeps. I can feel it's soulless eyes following me all over the court. Is that normal in Japan?"

"Nope." You say. Midorima is just fucking weird.

"It is Midorima-kun's lucky item for today." Kuroko says, sitting down - not on Kagami's side, like you expected, but next to you. Like it's natural. He offers you and Kagami a water.

You stare at him. "...Is it poisoned."

Kagami scoffs, takes both of them and throws one at you. "Don't be a dramatic dick. Also, what the hell is a lucky item?"

You catch it and look at Kuoko again. "Thanks. I guess."

You have no idea what's going on anymore. Was this covered by the truce? It's like Kuroko's trying to be - nice, when you only expected civility. You're wary.

Kuroko ignores your stare, instead explaing the concept of a lucky item to Kagami, who's eyebrows go higher and higher.

"That's fucking stupid." Kagami says. "Luck isn't a thing."

You think about the talent you did nothing to earn, the way you crush people with years of experience under your heels. How you exist. You say nothing.

Kuroko blinks, face placid. "Be that as it may, I have never see him miss."

"What, never?" The three of you look over when the vice-captain of the team sits next to Kagami, towel around his neck. "That's… scary."

"Indeed." Kuroko says. "Midorima-kun has always been the most focused of the Miracles. With Takao-san's assitance, he is even more formidable player."

You lean back against the bench and look up at the ceiling, one hand loosely holding the drink. "Mm." You say, not really listening.

"This Takao guy, he's like Hana?" Kagami wipes his forehead with his jersey. "He can see Kuroko?"

You spin the black sweatband around your wrist. "No. Nothing like me."

Kuroko blinks. "What do you mean?"

"Takao's got hawk's eyes. It's natural talent for him." You shrug. "I have to do it actively. If I stop paying attention, I don't see him."

"Huh." Kagami said. "How?"

"I would like to know as well." Kuroko says. "If there is some sort of flaw that you can use, then others may be able to exploit it."

You hold up the thumb and forefingers on each hand and make a square, then center it on Kuroko. "You think I don't know how to guide the eye? A little misdirection is nothing."

Kuroko blinks. "Ah. I did not think about that."

You lower your hands and tuck them into your pockets. You've had years of practice observing your surroundings before you met Kuroko; always looking for that perfect shot, that one moment worth capturing.

You still do it, even now. On some level, you're _always_ paying attention.

"Wait, what?" Kagami puts a hand down on both yours and Kuroko's shoulders. "Care to share with the rest of us, who don't have any connection to your tragic backstory?"

You roll your eyes. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

A part of you regrets even bringing it up. The cool plastic of the camera under you hands. The click of the shutter. The breathless moment before you get a glimpse of what you captured on film. A clear lens between you and the rest of the world. A way of making sense of the people in it.

Your fingers twitch.

Kuroko adjusts his wristbands. "Yes. It is enough to say that no one else may do what Mashiro-san can."

"Tch. Cryptic bastards. Whatever. I still can't imagine you dating anyone." Kagami says. "You're just... Hana. Who'd be willing to date you?"

"Rude." You say. "I happen to have two ex-boyfriends." Fake ones, but still. You're talented, rich, and pretty good looking. Minus your personality, you're a catch.

You time it for when Kagami takes another drink, and you're rewarded when Kagami chokes and sputters water everywhere. "What? You - you found _two_ people -" He looks at Kuroko.

"It's true." Kuoko says, peeling the label of his pocari. "Kise-kun and Mashiro-san dated for years."

Izuki blinks. "The -the model? Kise Ryouta of the generation of miracles? The super handsome, suave person who was voted number one person a girl wants to date in Jordan Magazine? That Kise?"

All three of you pause to stare at him. Jordan is a prominent girls magazine. You and Kise have both done work for them before.

"How do you know that?" Kagami asks.

"I like the articles," Itsuki lies. Poorly.

"Yes, Itsuki-sempai. That Kise." Kuroko says, voice deadpan.

This time it's your turn to be stared at.

"Wait, who's the second one?" Kagami asks.

Kuroko's mouth goes tight.

You roll the water in your hands, ignore the way they stare. Akashi... sometimes you miss him. The two of you didn't agree about... a lot of things, but it didn't stop you from being comfortable around him. With Akashi you could let him lead. Let him make the decisions. He took charge like he breathed.

It wasn't a surprise in the end, that he made the decision for your to go to Rakuzan with him. You had so little energy in the end that having someone else to make the day to day decisions for you was easy.

But that's all it is.

He used you for a shield. You used him as a rudder.

"No one important," You say, finally. It's over and done with.

Beside you, Kuroko is still.

You wonder: what is it like to want to save someone?

"...and that's not ominous at all. Is this more Miracle bullshit?" Kagami rubbed his eyes. "It's never ending with you people."

Kuroko blinks, and shifts. "Kagami-kun is so astute."

"Shut it. There's always something new and depressing from you Teikou bastards."

"You love us." You hop to your feet. After a moment of hesitation, you offer Kuroko a hand.

If he's trying, you will too. As long as you're here.

His eyes go wide for a split second. The moment stretches until you're half expecting it to break and cut you, like a rubber band pulled to tight.

His eyes flicker. He sighs and takes your hand.

Kuroko's hands are calloused, and the fact surprises you for some reason. Whenever you look at him, it's like looking at a painting. A photograph of something already faded. Insubstantial.

In that moment you can feel something slot into place in your head.

Kuroko is real.

You pull him up, and there's weight to him. He breathes. He thinks. He… exists.

You let go of his hand like it's burning and you look across the court, up into the beachers, so he can't see your face. The way your eyes have gone wide. Unsure.

A flash of pink out of the corner of your eye.

Your head whips around before you can register it, eyes scan the bleachers, sifting through the crowd like looking for a jewel in the desert.

Nothing.

You look again, eyes narrowed, because you know that shade of pink. You'd never mistake it for anything else.

Why is Momoi here?

"Hana? Whatcha looking at?" Kagami throws his arm over your shoulder and tows you to the court. "Half times over. "

With one last glance over your shoulder, you let him pull you back to the game.

* * *

 _Kuroko is real._

 _Momoi is here._

The two thoughts circle each other in your head like a snake eating its own tail. You ignore the

Kuroko is real, the way Kise is real, the way Akashi almost was.

That means... you have to expend that little bit of yourself and care what he thinks.

The whistle blows and you cast the referee and annoyed glance. The man flinches back. Can't he see that you're trying to think?

If Momoi is here, why wouldn't she say anything? She's not _shy_.

Shutouku gets the ball in the toss up this time, just barely outstripping Kagami and the game begins. You follow along with the game, but your mind is miles away.

You move without thinking.

...Should you look for her, after the game?

 _Inhale_.

You duck under Miyaji's guard, breeze past the captain with a spin and take the ball out of Takako's hands.

Dribble once. No exits. The basket is behind you. Someone on your team shouts, but you're too deep in thought to hear them. All voices sound like static in your ears.

Why would she be here?

You fake driving down the middle, then toss the ball, freehand it without looking.

 _Exhale_.

 _Swish._

Why are you having such a hard time deciding?

You scratch the back of your neck. You'll look. If she doesn't want to see you, she can say so to your face.

Mind made up you nod to yourself, and turn around - to find a deadly hush settled over the gym. Both teams stare at you with wide eyes. The referee still has the whistle pressed to his lips.

You look over your shoulder, to the basketball hoop on the opposite end of the court.

 _Ah._

A sigh escapes before you can stop it. The shot wasn't even that hard - your attention was gone and you forgot the level your team is playing at. The body you're stuck in at work again.

Midorima looks from you to the basket. "You... just how much are you holding back?" Midorima demands, and his eyes burn. Like he's looking at Akashi.

You look at him and feel yourself go blank, empty out like a water spilling from a palm. It's not surprise. You just... forgot.

How can you not hold back, not out of concern, but because you…you don't want to be relied on. Put yourself on their level, or a bit above, and let that be the end of it. One moment of carelessness, and the both teams stare at you like you're a monster.

It's only basketball - but that's what Midorima and Seirin care about.

You don't look at Seirin, but you don't need to. Midorima's not an idiot because he turns an eye to them too. He snorts. "Someone like you at some no name school? It's a waste of your potential."

"Oi! Quit being a dick," Kagami growls, but you can see the way he's looking at you from the corner of his eyes. An assessing look that seems strange and out of place.

Your shoulders are tense and you don't say anything.

Potential?

Like you _care_.

"Hana -" Hyuuga falters for the first time you've known him. The rest of the team is quiet.

You look and Kuroko's eyes are ice.

It cuts, in the second before numbness sets in.

 _It was nice while it lasted._

You look back to the basketball, rolling forgotten on the other end of the court and know that the eyes of the entire room are on you again, and not a single one of them friendly.

Everyone wants _something_.

Expression slides off your face like something liquid. You pass the other team, feet steady. Take the ball. Pass it to the ref. "Are we playing or not?" You ask.

The man blinks and fumbles for his whistle. "P-point Seirin!"

The teams retreat to their sides but your feet are concrete blocks. You stay where you are, rather than turn around and go back to the team. You don't know what their reaction will be. Rage, for not going all out from the beginning? Betrayl? Fear?

You don't want to find out.

Footsteps behind you. A long shadow over you. Midorima adjusts his glasses, Takao behind him. "I don't know why you're holding back, and I don't _care_. You will play seriously."

You half glance over your shoulder. Turn back to the open court between you and the hoop, the empty feeling in you throat. "Nah."

Midorima looms over you, like height makes a difference. You faced off with Murasakibara regularly. "Do _not_ insult me like this. Play seriously or - "

"Or what? You'll tell Akashi on me? Not everything is about you, Shin-chan." You step into his shadow, stare him in the eyes. "You want my best? Make me."

Takao looks at you, and his face is amazed. "Holy shit, that's cold."

A moment pases.

Midorima adjusts his glasses, his eyes sharp. "Very well. I shall."

* * *

The game starts again, and you wish you were surprised when Midorima's team surrounds you like bodyguards around the prime minister the second your hand touches the ball. You feel like you're being surrounded by a forest of sweaty, smelly boys. You barely come up to shoulder of the shortest one. All you can see is that awful orange of their uniform.

"Nothing personal." Takao lies cheerfully.

"Guess you forgot about the rest of my team." You muse.

Takao's eyes go wide and he spins around - perfect.

You toss the ball up, so high up that it nearly brushes the ceiling, and their eyes follow the ball, like they always do. You don't need to look up - so you duck out of the center - move under the arms, into the open.

When they look back down, you're already gone. Like you said to Kuroko - you know how to lead the eye.

You move back a few steps, not looking up and hold out one hand.

The ball thumps into it. The _looks_ they give you.

You sigh.

 _Dull._

* * *

It doesn't get better. Shutoku tries, puts their all into it - but they lost to Kagami in the manga.

With you there, it's an obvious conclusion. Midorima is good but if he can't get the ball - he can't shoot.

You… don't let him have the ball. He touches it once more, makes a shot, but it's too little, too late.

You look at the scoreboard.

(91 vs 112).

You line up. Shukutoku on one side. Seirin on the other.

Midorima stands opposite you.

It's quiet in the court. The crowd drains out, along with Seirin. You stay behind.

So does Midorima, and Takao hovering behind him.

"Good game, Shin-chan." You say.

Midorima - flinches and Takao glares at you. "Don't - don't call him that, like you're friends or something. Don't act like this game has nothing to do with you. You... did you even try?"

Midorima freezes, looks at Takao with wide eyes - but he doesn't tell him to stop. Midorima turns to you.

"No." You say, to him alone. The truth comes easy to you, sits on your tongue like acid. "Not really."

"You're kidding me." Takao laughs, but not like it's funny. "Oh man. Are you even _human_?"

The question sits heavy in your throat, like a swallowing a stone and having it get stuck in your throat. The look on Midorima's face is awful. All you feel is tired. Tired of breathing, tired of being awake, tired of being the villain in this narrative.

 _I didn't ask for this._ You think about saying it. Don't.

It's pointless. No one ever listens.

"Would it kill you to at least be happy you won?" Takao asks.

Your shrug is the barest movement of your shoulders. Basketball is pointless. A way to kill time. It isn't fun. It just… is.

Midorima adjusts his glasses. Rubs his eyes. "Takao, enough. She's always been this way." His smile is bitter. "You and Akashi really are perfect for each other. Effortless, overwhelming victory. I just never knew how much. How fitting."

How unfair.

"You... didn't even try." Midorima says, almost to himself. His eyes still stare past your shoulder, toward the hoop. "You never once had put in effort. Not in Teikou. Not now. Not for anything. I did everything I could." He looks down at the glass sculpture. "It still wasn't enough."

You hear those words like he's down a long tunnel, or you stand behind a glass wall. Distant. Nothing he says reaches inside you. You're empty, you are bloodless as a stone, you are gone. No pity.

Midorima looks and you and his smile is so bitter. "I've lost."

Your lungs feel heavy. "Ah."

"That's all you have to say?"

You look at him. "I don't know what you want to hear."

How long has he practiced? How much blood has he shed over it?

You understand. You _know._

Winning, losing, teams, people. You don't care. Basketball might as well be a word on the wind to you.

His face crumples. "It's not _fair_."

You look at Midorima. Than away to the team, pretending not to listen behind him, everyone of them ready to step in for him, no matter how annoying he is. You can feel their stares in the back of your throat.

Midorima already found his place.

"The world's not fair," Your voice sounds cold even to you, like a piece of your dreams broke off to live in your mouth.

 _"Don't call him that." Anger honed to a cutting edge._

Fine.

It's not like the two of your were really friends in the first place. Can't lose what you never had. The thought is quiet, tinged with exhaustion. Your eyes feel like weighted stones.

"Later, Midorima." You turn, and pause. Seirin stares at you, changed out of their jerseys. Kagami's mouth is twisted into a scowl.

You meet Kuroko's wide eyes. Think about hating him. Think about screaming. Think about feeling.

Instead, you let your eyes slide off him for the first time you've met him. He vanishes from your sight like mist in the sun.

Kagami takes a step forward. "Hana- "

"Coach." You say, because you're not interested in getting a lecture about sportsmanship or the power of friendship. You're fucking _sick_ of basketball. "I'm going home. I'll be back tomorrow."

If she says anything to that you don't hear it. You brush past them and out into the city streets before anyone can talk to you. Violince crawls up your spine until your teeth ache with it.

You head for the seedier part of town.

You need to let off some steam.

* * *

 **technically** **momoi was in this chapter? (ducks back behind cover)**

 **up next: Midorima pov**


	15. XV Interlude two: Green

Midorima's eyes itch behind his glasses, to the point that he feels like being sandblasted. His head aches. Every time he blinks, he sees Hana's expression slide off her face like a house of cards being snatched by the wind.

Midorima rubs his chest. Perhaps he exerted himself to much; his chest throbbed with a strange ache. The memory of black and white numbers climbing, climbing. A sheer cliff Midorima scrambled up with his fingernails, but every point he stole, Seirin effortlessly pulled back.

Ostubou and Miyaji are quietly conversing near the front of the bus, waiting to take them back to Shutoku. The coach has his arms crossed across from them, nodding his head.

Midorima can't see their faces from here. The familiar sensation of wordlessness comes over him. He wants to say something - but when he opens his mouth, all that escapes is breath. He looks down at his taped hands, mouth pursed.

He lost. That's all there is too it.

None of his team talked to him after the match. The low, anxious voice in the back of his head spins his mind in circles, each as unpleasant as the last - they hate him for knowing Hana, they blame him for the defeat, he's a Miracle - why isn't he better?

His hands clench without his consent.

Outsubo and Miyaji bow to the coach and walk back to the team. "Double practice for everyone for the next two weeks. Our showing was _abysmal_. Takao," Outsubo says from behind them. "You're walking home. And triple practice tomorrow."

Takao looks up from his feet with wide eyes. "What? _Why_?"

Ostubo's face is stearner than Midorima's ever seen it. "You really have to ask? I only caught the last half your conversation with Mashiro, but you were _out of line_." He leans forward. "You're lucky you're still a starter. Shutoku is one of the kings of basketball. Our players have to reflect that."

"But she -"

"Was better." He says. His voice cuts through team. "That's all there is to it. She never went all out, and I know you feel insulted. All of you. I know you agree with Takao." He looks over the team, meeting everyone's' eyes. "But _why_? Basketball is a game with a winner and a loser. We lost. That's on us. _"_

Takao flinches back and Midorima's stomach feels hollow. He can't hold Ostubo's gaze, can't figure out what to do with his hands.

Miyaji breaks the grimm quiet with a sigh. "We relied too much on Midorima."

THe miracle can't hold back his flinch.

Than Miyaji continues. "There's no way he could handle both Kagami, Mashiro, and that Kuroko guy on his own. The rest of us were complacent. Midorima is important to the team, but he needs a proper guard. We need to step it up."

 _What?_

Confusion is not something he enjoys feeling. Midorima's hands are tight around his bag. "I was inadequate." He says. "I will do better next time."

The team looks at him, and Midorima stares back. Spine straight. He will not make excuses for himself.

Miyaji rolls his eyes and Otsubo reaches up and scuffs up Midorima's hair.

"This is a team, Midorima. We lose together. We win together." The captain says. "You don't have to apologize. You only have to do your best."

Midorima blinks rapidly, trying to get the sting out of his eyes. "Yes, Captain."

"Seriously, freshmen." Miyaji says with disgust.

Otsubo waves his hand. "Get your gear and start loading up the bus."

Midorima looks down. His throat feels oddly tight, and his eyes are still burning. Otsubo's eyes overlaid with Nijimura. Better days, when the miracles were more than a group. They were a _team_.

But that's in the past.

Beside him, Takao is oddly quiet. He's staring out the glass window, mouth set in a severe frown. His normally cheerful eyes are dark. Midorima looks out the same window, but whatever Takao sees is invisible to him. Midorima has no Hawk's eyes to rely on.

The silence presses down on Midorima. He blinks and sees Hana's face. Clutches his lucky item.

"You know," Takao says finally. "I don't much like your girlfriend, Shin-chan."

Shitarou can't quite hid the flinch that name gets.

 _"Later, Midorima."  
_  
"Hana isn't my girlfriend." He says on automatic.

That seems to break through to Takao, who gives his a wry smile. "I figured. I'll see you back at school. Looks like I got a ways to go."

Midorima shifts on his feet. "I… will ask the coach to reconsider. It's far to harsh in this weather -"

Takao laughs, but there's a note that sets Midorima's teeth on edge - not mocking, but a little - self-deprecating. "Shin-chan is such a tsundere." He scratches the back of his neck. "I'm still… angry at her, but I promised myself I wasn't going to do this again."

"Do what?"

Takao meets Midorima's gaze. "Judge. Like I did with you." He smiles again. "Looks like I owe her an apology the next time I see her."

" _See you later, Midorima."_

Takao isn't the only one, Midorima thinks. "I will come with you." He blurts out.

Takao blinks. "But -"

Midorima straightens up and adjusts his glasses. "You were not the only one at fault in that conversation. I was too slow to say anything. It's only right that I share the punishment."

Takao stares long enough for Midorima's nerves to falter. Finally he shakes his head with a crooked smile. "Man, I'm in so much trouble."

"I beg your pardon?" Midorima asks.

"Don't worry about it, Shin-chan. I'll go get the rickshaw, because you brought it for some reason, you _weirdo_. You should tell the captain."

Takao is gone before Midorima can ask again. He frowns. There is very little he likes less than the feeling he's missing something.

* * *

The captain doesn't seem surprised when Midorima informs him, simply waves Midorima off.

The rain comes down it sheets, to the point where the rickshaw is more like a boat with a hole in it; three inches of water and climbing.

"Can't ride in this." Takao says, with a very fake sense of regret. "Guess you'll have to walk. What a shame."

"Perhaps this was a mistake," Midorima muses.

Takao laughs. "Too late for that, Shin-chan."

Midorima rolls his eyes. "Let's go."

Quickly, Midorima realizes his mistake. Takao was not one of nature's' more prepared people.

They only had one umbrella between them.

Takao and Midorima look at it. Then out at the sheets of rain crashing against the windows.

"Guess we'll just have to share." Takao says, and holds out the umbrella. "Here. You're the freakishly tall one, so you get to hold it. I have to push the rickshaw anyway."

Midorima looks and Takao and the umbrella. His throat feels dry. Midorima swallows, and takes the it. Their hands brush and a low, strange tingle shoots down his arm. He unfurls it. He can feel Takao, the way he radiates heat.

Midorima keeps his eyes ahead, watching the rain hit the ground. What is wrong with him?

 _"Takao's cute." Hana's bored voice._

His frown turns into a scowl. Hana making fun of him as always, as if he wants his shooting guard to be distracted by - by a _girlfriend_ , the way Akashi was sometimes.

"Shin-chan?"

He shakes his head. "I am simply tired."

"Yeah. That was a rough game." Takao says. "...what was she like, in Teikou? There must be something you like about her."

The question startles Midorima. Like?

"With Hana," he says, feeling out the words. "It wasn't a matter of like or not. She dated the captain of the team for a while. She - "

 _\- she was one of us._

Like doesn't matter, because she is a Miracle in everything but name, just like Momoi.

He doesn't know how to explain it. How she never looks back. Never slows down. Akashi's attitude and Aomine's talent combined, with Murasakibara's work ethic.

"Talent like that," Midorima says at last. "With her personality, upset a lot of people. She never had a lot of friends."

From day one, a few of the students at Hana's old school who came to Teikou, poisoned the well before she had a chance to drink. Shintaro remembers the ugly rumours that seethed around her feet like a frothing wave. Hana is a whore, Hana is a bitch, Hana is a delinquent, Hana has ties with the Yakuza - it was endless.

It doesn't prepare him for seeing her out on the basketball court, that first time. If Midorima wasn't hadn't seen her talk to Nijimura just seconds before, he'd think someone carved a statue to look like a poor imitation of a girl and planted it in the gym.

Hana doesn't look like a person at first.

Small. Pale. Dark hair, so straight and black it looked like a wig at first. Dark eyes, that look through everyone and everything. She doesn't talk. She doesn't smile. She barely blinks.

She turns, meets his eyes. Looks _through_ him for a split second.

"She never once made fun of my lucky items." Midorima says at last. She never seemed to notice them. "She was easy to be around, despite her… Hana-ness. Easy going."

Despite this, Midorima still has vivid memories of Hana snapping at Murasakibara, napping on Akashi like an overgrown cat, listening quietly to Momoi talk.

Takao blinks. "Really? I'd never guess it. You Miracles are always seemed so weirdly intense."

Midorima adjusts his glasses, choosing to ignore that aside. "I've only seen her hold a grudge against one person." Hana and Murasakibara really, really don't get along.

"Huh." Takao's fingers tap a rhythm on the bike handle. "Hey Shin-chan… what was Teikou really like?"

The question startles Midorima for some reason. He glances down at Takao, but Takao doesn't look back; he's watching his feet.

Shintaro returns to watching the ripples his shoes make in the growing puddles. "Cold." He says at last. Scores climbing, numbers and people who lived by them. "And warm."

His team, the Miracles, the way they were. Before everything fell apart. Midorima is not someone driven by sentiment, but he sometimes remembers the feeling of being sat at a lunch table, letting the chatter of the other Miracles wash over him.

He looks up, past the umbrella, into the cloudy sky. "We were _invincible_."

 _And it broke us._

Takao is quiet for a long moment. "Do you miss it?"

Did he?

"Some of it." Midorima says, because that's the truth. Before Akashi split, before Aomine got lost in himself, before Kuroko vanished. Much as it pains him sometimes, the Miracles are Midorima's friends. The first two years, they were happy with their strange little group, with Hana flitting on the outskirts, and Momoi drifting in and out with information whenever she wanted.

"But that's the in the past." He meets Takao's eyes. "I would not go back, if I could. We Miracles have all moved on, as is right. I belong with Shutoku now."

Much as Midorima hates it, he needed the wake up call Hana brought with her, that Kuroko and Kagami drove home.

He is not _invincible_ anymore.

It's a… welcome change. Teikou stopped being fun without the challenge. Midorima thinks about meeting his friends on the court, going up against Hana and Kuroko and Kagami again, and feels his mouth curl up.

Losing is hard. But that game was the most fun he's had in a long, long time.

He's looking forward to playing again. Winning with his team, fighting with his team.

"Do you wanna get lunch?" Takao blurts out. Then he groans and leans forward over the handles of the bike. "I just said that out loud."

Midorima blinks. It's five in the afternoon, far too late for lunch.

Takao clears his throat. "I mean, not lunch, but _food_ \- I know I'm hungry after that match, losing is hard work, and I really, _really_ to stop talking -"

"Alright." Midorima says.

Takao's head jerks up. "What, really?"

Midorima adjusts his glasses. "Dinner after a game was tradition at Teikou. It promotes team bonding, resulting in a more harmonious club."

Takao stares at Midorima long enough to make his shoulders he sighs, leans against the bike with arms crossed, and buries his face in them. "...Right. Team bonding. That's what I meant."

His voice doesn't sound quite right, but Midorima can't find a way to bring it up. He's never been the best with people. "I want takoyaki."

"Sounds good, Shin-chan." Takao says, voice muffled.

* * *

A conversation Midorima doesn't share with Takao.

It's a week before graduation and Midorima comes back from speaking with a teacher to find his lucky item shattered on the floor. He stares at it, an and all Midorima can think is (name will be so disappointed. The barrette is one of her favorites, and she only reluctantly let him borrow it today because it was so last minute - and he needed something specifically from a girls he knows.

It happens every so often - people take offense to his lucky items, take them apart. He normally takes them with him everywhere, but he must have let his attention slip.

He kneels next to the sparkly pink remains of his little sister's favorite barrette and begins gently picking it up. Tries to breath through his anger.

"...Shin-chan?" Hana asks from behind him.

"Not now right now, Hana." He says, not looking up from his work. His sister loves - _loved_ the barrette. How was he going to make it up to her?

Footsteps. Hana crouches next to him, but does nothing else. He looks up to find her studying him.

"You really believe in this stuff." She says finally.

Midorima glares at her. "Of course I do. Oha Asa is always accurate. Not that it's any of your business."

"True." She says, with a halfhearted shrug. She doesn't move, though. Hana crouches there with him for the ten minutes it takes for him to gather up all the pieces he could find.

When Midorima stands, his knees sting, and he's starting to feel that familiar anxiety well up in the pit of his stomach. How is he going to get home like this? He doesn't have any other female acquaintances outside of Momoi - but he knows better than to touch his phone in this state. It'd just get broken somehow.

...getting into a car or train like this would be stupid. The car might crash, and the train would absolutely jam. He has to walk home.

Shintaro's heart sank. Oha Asa predicted that cancers would be disastrous for him today. Those bullies must have been cancers - he wasn't careful enough.

"-chan."

Midorima blinks at Hana's voice and looks down - and his glasses slip off his nose , plummet like stones to the earth. He snatches at them reflexifly but misses - they bounce off his wrist, and he flinches back from a sting of pain.

The glasses fly off in the other direction. Midorima clutches his wrist to his chest while he watches the glasses fall in slow motion and resigns himself to walking home blind.

A blurry, pale hand snatches the glass out of the air, easy as breathing.

Midorima blinks.

The blurry figure of Hana holds out his glasses to him.

He takes them with his right hand, and puts them on his face, lets the world come back into clarity. He looks down to find Hana watching him with her dark, blank eyes.

Midorima clears his throat. "Thank you."

"...sure. Your lucky item," she says and he braces himself for the ridicule, the scorn. "What was it?"

 _What?_

"What?" He asks out loud.

She blinks slowly at him. "The lucky item, Shin-chan."

He watches her, years of pain conditioning him for the joke, the catch.

Her black eyes are opaque. She doesn't move. If not for the sway of her hair, bound up in a high ponytail today, in the gentle air conditioning air flow, he'd think she was a painting. Endless. Mountain like.

Hana waits for his answer, because Hana always waits.

"...a hair accessory from a female of my acquaintance." He says at last. Thinks of the sparkly barrett he borrowed from his sister and tries not to wince. She loves that barrett.

Loved it.

"Hmm. Kay." Hana reaches up to her own hair and tugs. The ponytail comes down like a waterfall, like a curtain going down between the two of them.

She holds out her hand, without saying anything.

Midorima stares at her with wide eyes, wrist still clutched to his chest. He wants to refuse, because he's not a charity case - but he can't. Hana does fit the conditions of "female he knows", even if the thought hurts his brain a little.

She willingly dates Akashi, after all. She can't be real.

He extends his hands, and Hana drops it into his palm. It doesn't vanish like he half expects; it's heavier than he thought, solid and shaped like a spray of leaves - or maybe leaves shaped like cats. Very feminine. Not her style.

Where did she even get this?

"Thank you." Midorima says, stiffly, even as the familiar weight of a lucky item relaxes the pit in his stomach. "I will return it tomorrow."

She shrugs. "Don't bother. Just Kise being annoying. Give it to your sister or something."

Midorima should protest... but he also doesn't want to deal with the inevitable waterworks when he returns home without a replacement. He adjusts his glasses. "Then I shall. Good day to you, Hana."

She gives him a lazy salute over her shoulder but doesn't look back.

He makes it safely home.

Naoko loves the new hair clip. He can see the sparkly admiration in her eyes at the 'grown up' accessory and imeadeatly takes out her pigtails and has Shintarou pull her hair back into a high bun on the back of her head.

He obliges, relieves that there will be no tears today. He doesn't think anymore of it, not until their mother returns home from work an hour later. They sit down for dinner together and Nanoko shows off her new hair clip.

Their mother blinks once. Twice. Lets out a strangled cough. "Can I see that again, Nao-chan?"

Nao doesn't hear anything wrong with her tone, but Shintarou looks up sharply. His mother is pale.

Nao hands over the hair clip with obvious reluctance. "Don't break it."

"I won't, honey." Mother says with a small smile. She studies the clip, and flips it over. "Oh my." Her voice is faint. "Shintarou, where did you get this?"

Midorima frowns. "Is there something wrong?"

"Mommy?" Nao's voice is anxious.

Mother shakes herself, blinks and gives them both a smile. "Nothing, dear. This is a very fancy, very grown up hair clip. I don't think it's for little girls. How about I keep this for now and we'll go out and find you a different one this weekend?"

"No! It's mine! Shi-nii gave it to me!" Nao says, and Midorima braces himself for the waterworks.

"What's wrong with it?" He asks. Hana is strange, but he can't believe she'd give him something dangerous.

"This is a Karin brand accessory." His mother says, voice low. "Even _one_ of these costs a year and a half of my salary. Where did you get it, Shintarou?"

His mind blanks.

That's... that's a lot of money. "A friend gave it to me." He says. "I broke my lucky item and - how can it be that expensive? It's a hair clip!"

"I don't care. You'll give it back to her, tomorrow. This is _far_ to expensive to give a friend." His mother's tone was deadly serious.

Midorima nods, numb. It's such a Hana thing to do that he's speechless.

But it's too late. The next day, Hana isn't in school and no one knows where she went. He doesn't see her again for three months.

Kuroko is gone too, but no one notices it. Not until, much much later.

Midorima keeps the hair clip.

* * *

The first step into the restaurant, and Midorima knows it's a mistake.

The startled faces of Serin stare back at him, and - Kise in the corner with his captain? What?

Oh. That's right, Kuroko is here. Mystery solved.

Takao laughs. "Yikes. What are the odds, huh Shin-chan?"

Midorima turns and walks right out - and almost gets hit in the head by a flying branch. He freezes in the doorway, clutching at his lucky item.

 _Thank you, Oha Asa._

The wind tugs violently at his uniform, and Shintarou does the math in his head; dealing with Kuroko is fine, tolerable even - dealing with Kise and Kuroko in the same place is a different beast entirely. Kise is one of his friends, but Kuroko knocks off ninety brain-cells and all of his attention span.

…Shintarou is wet and miserable, and he has to apologize to Hana for his rudeness today anyway. It's cold. He doesn't want to go back into that weather. His horoscope says to be wary of water today.

Shintarou squares his shoulders and - gives in. Turns around and goes back inside. Takao is still standing in the same place with his hands behind his head, that annoying amused smile on his face. His earlier contemplative attitude is replaced by his usual mischievous spark.

"Shut up." Midorima says.

He laughs again. "I didn't say anything. I think your old team wants to talk to you."

Midorima gets no chance to protest. Takao works his charm and suddenly Seirin shift seats and he ends up sitting next to Kuroko, with Kise and Kagami on the other side of the table. It's quiet for the first five minutes, and Shintarou can tell there's something off about the atmosphere of the room.

Seirin isn't acting like they won.

Midorima eyes Kagami with disdain. Why is he at this table if it's a supposed miracle meeting? In fact - he looks around. No sign of ink dark hair.

Midorima frowns. "Where is Hana?"

The rest of the table is already quiet, but with the question the temperature goes down to sub zero.

"What?"

Kagami and Kuroko exchange a glance.

Kuroko is the one to answer him. "We don't know."

Midorima blinks. "W-what? It's only been an hour and a half. How could you loose her that fast?"

Kagami sighs and slumps forward on the table, head in hands. "I don't _know_. She just took off, ignored coach and everything. That girl will be the death of me. Are you miracles just allergic to common sense or something?"

Midorima gives an offended sniff. He has _plenty_ of common sense.

"Mashiro-san isn't answering her phone either." Kuroko says, mouth a thin line. "I cannot contact her."

"Surely Kise knows?" Midorima looks at the model.

Kise flinches. "Ah ha ha. Me an Hana are kinda... not talking right now?"

Midorima drops his chopsticks, but he's too busy staring at Kise to care. "Excuse me?"

Kise's shrug is uncomfortable.

Midorima can't wrap his his mind around it. Kise and Hana weren't exactly attached at the hip, but he would say that siblings - twins, even - would be the most accurate description of their relationship. It was like hearing that Murasakibara gave up sweets. Aomine aced a test. Akashi lost at something.

Plausible, but unlikely.

Midorima picks up his chopsticks. "Well. That might be so, but I don't see what the problems is. Hana can take care of herself. She doesn't need to be babysat."

Kuroko and Kise and Kagami exchange a glance.

"...true." Kuroko agrees reluctantly. "Mashiro-san is very capable."

Kagami doesn't look convinced, and mutters something about locker rooms and showers and Maji burger, for some reason, but his mouth is too full to understand him.

"Gross, Kagamicchi." Kise wrinkles his nose.

With that, the topic seems to drop. Kise brightens up into his normal air-headed self, and bugs Kuroko insistently. Kagami eats. Takao is... himself.

Midorima can't shake the unease in the pit of his stomach.

I never got to return the hair pin, Midorima thinks.

* * *

After he takes a shower at home, Midorima sits in front of his desk with his arms crossed. His eyes are trained on the phone placed in the middle of it.

He reaches out a hand. Hesitates.

With a sigh of resignation he picks up the phone and dials a number. Puts the phone to his ear.

 _Click._

"Shintarou. It's rather late."

"Akashi." Midorima says. "I found Hana."

Midorima knows none of the others would tell Akashi anything - Kise is too intimidated, Kuroko too angry. Momoi - Midorima doesn't know why she does anything. She never says anything, but Midorima thinks she too knows about Akashi's split.

But him? He owes Akashi this much at least.

A deep silence on the other end of the phone.

"Tell me." Akashi says.

* * *

 **okay this chapter was a bitch and a half to write, but it's done as i'm going to get it. as always make sure you guys point out any ooc parts or just tell me which bits you liked the most.**

 **I love midorima guys. hes so dumb for someone so smart.**

* * *

 **there won't be any updates in april, because i'm finishing up my other story (I don't want to live on the moon) for camp Nano. I'll be too busy to write :(**


	16. XVI

**eyyy i'm back long time no see my dudes**

* * *

The rain stings your skin, sticks your black hair to your face. You don't know how long you walk. You don't know much of anything. You let your heart go somewhere between the court and the door and all you have going on down there is a quiet dark throb of empty. The numbness sets in - not from the cold and wet, but from the inside. A lump of ice forms in your chest, to the point that it froze everything it touched.

Something burns below your skin. An ache you recognize, resign too.

You're in the red light district. It's familiar. You've been through once or twice before. Neon lights glitter off the pools of water forming, rippling with each drop. Your sneakers splash through them, turning light into fractals. It looks like another world beneath your feet. You're already soaked to the bone. Who cared about a little more water?

Even the red light district is deserted this late at night, and the clouds don't help. Paper advertisements wilt in the rain. The few people out are standing under the eaves, waiting for the rain to stop. You feel their eyes on you, one girl just wandering without an umbrella. No one stops you. You don't think. Just walk.

You hesitate for a second, feet turning towards the apartment your father bought you. Except you know if you go there, lay down, you won't be getting back up for a long, long time. You can't let the cold set in - you don't know how you'd live through it. There's no Kise at home, keeping you fed, bringing you water. Maybe you'd starve. Maybe you'd open up the balcony for the first time.

The very last shred of you left doesn't care - but you have a band of black around your wrist.

Kuroko. Blue hair. Pale, blank face.

 _Real_.

So your promises matter.

Can't play basketball when you're dead.

Grit your teeth, you pull around, continue deeper into the streets. The few people out move around you, even here. You walk through your own person bubble of space that keeps everything out but the rain. You stop in the middle of a walkway, just once. The people around you part like a stream around a rock.

You wander, following your shadow, stretched out in front of you. Eventually, the rain turns from a torrent into a drizzle; the sound of tokyo nightlife comes back. Your eyes pass over them like their air. Not what you want. Not what you need.

You have to wake up.

The smell of something acrid hits you and you blink, slowly. Come back to awareness with a ripple. Lights, neon and street. People still out, even in the rain. The jersey shirt sticks to you. The white of serin's uniform written across your bare skin.

You turn your head and follow the smell of smoke. A small alleyway. Trash. Five boys in a uniform you don't recognize, laughing - a mean, ugly sort of laughter. A cigarette hangs from one of their hands. One of the boys has scraped knuckles, another a bandage. Used to fighting. Heavy with anger and violence. The Haizaki type.

 _Perfect._

You take off your shoe and wind up. Let go.

It flies through the air, hits one of the boys on the back of the head. The boy lets out a cry of pain.

"The fuck was that?" He turned around, narrow eyes glance down at the shoe and than up. "Who the fuck threw that?"

You tilt your head.

The people around you draw back as one, quickly find other places to be. Good.

The boy storms out of the alley, and his buddies follow him after a moment. He stalks up to you and pulls your shirt into his fist. "Bitch, I'm going to fucking kill you."

He's got five inches and a hundred pounds on you. You're outnumbered. Tired. Slow.

Might actually get a challenge, for once.

You let him get up in your face, expression unchanged.

"You think I won't kill you because you're a girl? Huh?" He leans into your face. "I ain't afraid to hit a chick, but you can make it up to me another way." His eyes trail down to your soaked shirt.

You wrinkle your nose. "Your breath smells like shit."

He went red. His fist went back. "You're fucking done for!"

You shift, let yourself go limp. The man startles at taking your full weight and takes a step forward.

You hook your ankle around his and yank.

He stumbles. You're ready. He's not.

You slug him in the stomach.

He wheezes, hand coming up too late to protect his stomach. Bent over double, it's easy to fit your hands around the back of his head and bring it down to meet your knee. You feel his nose give with a crunch and the man lets out another cry of pain and staggers back. He trips over something, goes down with a clattler into a pile of garbage near the wall.

You look at him, where he dripped water and blood. His friends are frozen, and you can hear your heartbeat under the rain. Consider bringing your heel down on his throat, calm and cold. You know what happens after death. Taking a life brings no guilt.

It's just a passing thought. That's not what you want, not right now.

"Get up." You say, and your voice is flat, dead even. Make this worth your while.

"Bitch," one of them snarls lowly. The moment breaks and they rush you.

 _Finally_.

You throw yourself into it. You don't have time to think in a place like this. They come at you from all sides, and you were right. They were used to fighting; work well together as a group. The fight passes in blinks. Snapshots. Flesh splits under your fist.

Cries of pain.

Still not fast enough. They can't hit you; and you'd be disappointed if you felt anything at all.

A familiar streak of pink appears in the corner of your eyes.

"Hana-chan!"

For one long moment you hesitate; too long.

One of the delinquents takes advantage and slugs you in the face.

 _Pain_.

Like a drowning girl reaching air for the first time, you inhale - pain breaks the numbness into shards of glass, and you cut yourself on them. Hold them to your heart; who cares if they draw blood when you finally feel the rain on your skin?

"...Hana-chan?" A voice you haven't heard in three months brings you back to yourself. "Are you alright?"

You come back to yourself. Rough fabric in your fist. Breath coming in deep exhales. An echo of pain radiating from your cheek, your wrist. The boy you hold up by the collar groans, eyes shut. You drop him. Turn around, steps slow. The light spills through the alley's mouth, red and blue and pink - a harsher pink than the hair of the girl who stands there.

"...Momoi." You say. Your voice sounds horse, like you've been screaming.

She doesn't disappear. Momoi stands under a pink umbrella, her long hair loose around her face. The neon lights painted her skin, halo her hair. You can't make out her face. Can't see the emotion in her eyes. She takes a step forward, the puddle holding her reflection breaks under her heel.

She steps up to you, reaches out. Her hand hovers over the place the boy punched you. "Hana-chan, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Why are you here?" You don't know how she found you. You don't care.

She takes another step forward. The light caught on the curve on her smile. Her eyes are worried, though. "I was at the match with Midorin, but you left before I could find you. So I asked around and one of my contacts. Congratulations, Hana-chan. You did well." She sounds scincire. Like you didn't grind one of her friends' faces into the dirt, like you deserve it.

Like victory meant anything.

"...Thanks." You say, voice still that strange river stone flat.

The groan of pain brings your attention back to the men sprawled on the ground.

How much did she see?

You look at her and she doesn't even look at the boys on the floor. Momoi meets your stare with eyes as clear and steady as ever. Your shoulders relax a fraction. No fear in her eyes.

The sound of glass breaking tears your attention from Momoi. You step forward, because you can fight and she can't.

The first boy you hit struggles out of the garbage pile, a bottle in his hand. Jagged edges smile in the light and he glares at you. "You - "

You step forward. He retreats with and you advance, until his back touches the wall and he freezes. His eyes are brown, and wide and afraid. They watch you like a mouse watches a snake.

You lean in,

He raises the bottle."I-I'll do it -"

"You'll what?" You say, mild as milk. Inhale, and the bottle touches the hollow of your throat. You look into his eyes, let him see the utter lack of fear.

The boy goes pale white, clenches his hands, glass creaking.

Momoi exhales softly behind you. You keep your eyes on the boy. He swallows and slowly, slowly, lowers the bottle. It clatters from his fingers, shatters on the concrete. He flinches. You don't.

Figures.

"Don't make threats you can't follow through on." You say.

He flushes, but says nothing. You step back a touch and the way he edges around you speaks of fear.

You let him go, watch him back up to his friends, eyes still on you.

Water drips down your hair, down your face.

You look up at the clear sky, breathe deep. You look down. "Fuck off." You say.

They do. It leaves you in the alley. You and Momoi.

The two of you stand in silence. You don't know what to say. Words flicker in and out of your grasp like fish in a river. Thoughts are sand, you can't hold onto them. An overwhelming exhaustion fills you.

A low, pained, whine breaks the quiet.

Momoi blinks. "What was that?"

...Come to think of it, why were the delinquents here in the first place? You glance over your shoulder. It came from behind you - there. A pile of soggy cardboard boxes beside an empty dumpster moves.

Momoi steps past you, and you're left dizzy with the smell of her hair and the rain.

"Oh!" Momoi exclaims softly.

A pair of sared, ice blue eyes stares back at the two of you.

...Kuroko?

You tilt your head. No, it's not Kuroko. Too much emotion. Also, that's clearly a dog. You frown. Something tickled at the back of your head. A memory.

...Nigou. Tetsuya number two?

Here?

You stare at the dog, face flat. A long sigh leaves your mouth. Even here, you weren't free. You suspect moving to america wouldn't have saved you either.

You can't… you can't run anymore. It just follows you.

"How awful - they must have been teasing it. Poor thing. Look how beat up it is!" Momoi crouches and holds out her hand for the puppy to sniff.

The puppy shies away, tail tucked under his body. It's fur is stained with dirt, and it's obvious that it's hind leg has something wrong with it. Momoi tries to get closer and the puppy backs up again, skirts around her hand.

You look down at the puppy behind your legs without expression.

It looks up at you - and it's tail starts wagging, slowly at first, and then picks up speed.

You nudge it away with your foot - and it runs right back. You look at Momoi, not really sure what to do. You're... exhausted.

You can't read the look on her face. Her eyes are stained glass, beautiful in the light, but opaque.

Finally, she smiles. "I think it likes you, Hana-chan. It knows you saved it."

"...ah." You say. The burst of energy from the fight is fading quickly. The numbness is gone, but the exhaustion never really goes away. You feel the way wet clothes weigh you down. The sky is dark with rain clouds - it shows no sign of clearing up.

Momoi stands and brushes off her skirt. She looks at you with her stained glass eyes. "You're soaking wet." She took a step closer. You feel rooted to the spot. "We should get you into different clothes." Momoi reaches out to take your wrist- then hesitates.

Something bubbles underneath the surface of the apathy, like a tether pulled to his limits. About to snap.

You feel her touch from five inches away, like a ghost on your skin. The moment stretches out - her, reaching, you standing still. Waiting.

You can't move.

You - you feel still, your heart slow and steady.

She takes a deep breath, and takes your wrist in her hand, a gentle thing, soft and light as a butterfly landing on your wrist. She pulls you towards her, under the umbrella. It'd be easy to break her grip.

You don't.

Momoi pulls you under the umbrella. "You shouldn't go out without an umbrella, Hana-chan. I'll walk you home, okay? We can share." She looks down and smiles. "And we can take care of your little shadow."

There's blood on your knuckles, on your clothes. She still speaks to you, voice gentle like you're the one who's hurt.

Momoi smiles and hooks her pinky around your index finger. "Let's get you - the both of you - cleaned up, okay?"

You glance down. A pair of blue eyes stares up at you; the puppy still sits at your feet. It whined hopefully.

I already have a shadow, though.

You shake the thought off. Under Momoi and the puppy's eyes, the only thing you can do is collapse. Accept it. You scoop up the dog. It's strangely docile for a stray - did it use to have an owner? Where were they now?

"Let's get you home, Hana-chan."

* * *

The walk back is quiet and long. Fog filled your mind, but your feet stay steady. Momoi's shoulder brushes yours. The rain poured down leaving you and Momoi in a tiny slice of quiet. It seems far away; a sound belonging to a different place, a different world. You walk in step with Momoi, the puppy held to your chest, and her hand is a brand around your let her hold it t and lead you along. You're tapped. The caring meter is empty.

Momoi leads the way, and you're not surprised when she walks up to your apartment building despite not having directions. Momoi always knows. Once you started playing, she probably made a file for you. That's the way of the world.

In the lobby, Momoi lets go of your hand.

You look at her. Ignore the way your skin feels strange, how little it fits.

She smiles at you. "I should go home. Dai-chan will be worried sick, the dummy. Who knows what he'll do?" She doesn't move though; she stands there, looks at you with those eyes.

You blink, and your eyelids are stone.

Finally, she half-turns away. "Don't stay out in the rain anymore, okay Hana-chan? Even you could get sick."

The puppy tucks its nose into your neck, and maybe it's the cold pressure that makes you open your mouth.

"Stay." You say.

Momoi eyes go wide.

Your skin prickles again, you think - you think of the apartment upstairs; beautiful, expensive - empty. Under the exhaustion, you feel the violence building up like pressure pushing at an already cracked glass. How long until you shatter? How long until you break and spill out, do something you can't take back?

Not long, if you're alone.

It doesn't have to be Momoi, but Kise and Kise aren't here. Even Kuroko would do, even Akashi. But you'd… prefer it, if it was her. It's strange to have a preference about anything. You don't know why but you'll take it.

You can't make her stay. You stand there, water drips from your hair, sliding down your face and throat like an icy hand. The cold feels off, more like a memory rather than anything real; a story you told yourself once.

Momoi smiles. "Of course, Hana-chan."

* * *

It's strange to have someone else in your space. You take the elevator up to the penthouse suite you stay sometimes, unlock the door, and walk in. You leave the door open behind you - one last chance for her to leave.

Momoi follows you in.

This isn't the apartment you shared with Kise, a small, modest thing, with all of his friends coming and going. It's a penthouse suite in the middle of tokyo.

You lead her out of the kitchen into the living room. The low lights snap on, bathes the room in low yellow when you enter. The rain crashes down outside, drowns the city, turns it into smudges of light in the dark. The world slows down. Narrows to that edge, the light smiling at you.

You want it.

You swallow, and tear your eyes back from the window to look at the girl beside you.

Momoi eyes are wide. "It's nice." She said, clutching her umbrella. "A little… empty, though. I didn't know you were rich, Hana-chan. Even Akashi would like it here."

The words startle you, and you look at the apartment. The white walls, bare of decoration. Hardwood floors, and the large, sinfully soft carpet you drip on. The brand-new designer furniture, pristine hardwood and marble. The gleam of stainless steel and chrome. Your father spared no expense, but you're here so little, it feels unlived in. The place is sterile. Like you've made no ark on it at all. Now that Momoi is here, you realize how barren the apartment is. No nicknacks on the kitchen counters. No pictures on the wall.

It's sterile

"Your family hasn't moved in yet?" Momoi asks.

"I don't live with my family." You say. Your voice feels far away. he whole situation feels surreal, Like you're looking down on your body, watching it make small talk.

The puppy whines and wriggles in your arms, turns to face Momoi. She smiles at it and it barks - but it's tail wags.

You set it down. Look down at yourself. Mud and blood and fur smeared the white uniform. Seirin, it says. Suddenly, you can't stand having it on your skin. You drop your wet bag on the expensive wood floor and strip off the jacket. The jersey follows suit. You reach for the clasp on the bra.

"Hana-chan!" Momoi's squeaks. "Don't suddenly change without saying anything!"

You look back down at yourself. It was just normal underclothes. Black bra with lace edging, something from Kasumi again. You wonder sometimes if she wants you to open up a lingerie store. You still have the shorts on, even.

She sighs. "Do you just change in front of your whole team too?"

You tilt your head. "Yeah."

She blinks. Opens her mouth - and shuts it. Her brow pinches slightly.

The silence sinks down, into something you can't define. You stand there with hands frozen on the half open bra, watch her think.

Finally, Momoi sighs and smiles at you. "You really haven't changed, Hana-chan. Midorin used to have fits about your modesty."

Your shoulders tighten and you shrug. This body is yours, sure. That doesn't mean you're attached to it.

Momoi clears her throat. You glance at her. "I should go call my parents and Dai-chan, let them know I'm staying over. I'll just... "

You tilt your head again. Her ears were slightly pink...

Without finishing her sentence, she picks up the wet uniform, the puppy and your bag and walks out of the kitchen into the living room.

...You give up. You're too tired to think right now.

* * *

The hot water pounds down on your head like a thousand needles. You could stay there all night. Turn the heat up. The hot water won't run out, because all that money is good for something. Maybe you'll boil yourself alive.

Momoi.

You lean your forehead against the tiled wall and close your eyes for a moment. Then you open them again and shut off the water.

You step out into the living room, a toweld still around your neck. You glance around the empty living room. Did she go home?

A splash comes from the kitchen and a happy bark. You follow the noise like a moth to a porch light.

The kitchen is lit up, and you almost don't recognize it. Momoi stands at the sink, blazer discarded and her sleeves rolled up.

"Hana-chan! I didn't see you." Momoi looks up with a smile. Whatever she felt before is gone. She wipes some water off her face. "I should have tied my hair up before bathing the little brat." She tapps the puppy on the nose. He licks her finger and she laughs.

Your feet move you towards her without any input from your brain. "Mm." It's a noise of acknowledgment more than anything else.

The puppy perks up and wiggles in Momoi's arms, barks at you with a wagging tail.

She laughs.

"He really likes you. Must be because you helped him." She says with a smile.

You sit on the counter next to her. "I didn't save it." You say. "I didn't even know it was there."

Momoi blinks. "But..."

"The fight? I would have done it either way." You shrug. It wasn't some desire to do good. You wanted to hurt something. If it wasn't them, it would have been another group just like them. "They were just... convenient."

"Most people wouldn't admit that."

"I've never pretended to be a good person." You are what you are - selfish and cruel and cold. Why lie to yourself? This is the ugly truth. You're not a good person; you don't have the patience or energy to pretend otherwise.

Momoi is quiet. Her hands still. "It doesn't matter. If you knew or not - you helped, Hana-chan. That's what matters. You're a good person."

You touch the dog's head with two fingertips and he goes completely still. "If you want."

The dog sits; tilts his head to look at you, ears perked and attentive. Kuroko's eyes are strange when looking at you with affection. You're a little weirded out, to be honest.

You have to go back tomorrow. Back to school, back to the club. For now, you're here. Barefoot in your kitchen with a dog and a ... friend, you suppose. You don't want to argue with her. You're just too damn tired.

She studies you, and you let her. The tank top you're wearing is soft, worn thing by washing. The cut off sweatpants are pale, faded black. The closet in your room is filled with designer clothes, and you can't stand the thought of it touching your skin.

"Have you eaten yet, Hana-chan?"

The question catches you off guard and you frown. "I don't remember." Kagami feeds you over the day, and whatever snacks you collect. On weekends you have practice, and Kagami drags you out to maji burger after.

"Well!" Momoi claps her hands together. "I'll order something, you should go sit down. You played a match today and got in a fight. You must be exhausted."

She wraps the dog up in a towel and shoves him into your arms, not giving you time to protest. "What do you want to eat?"

You shrug. "I don't care."

"Pizza it is! Go, go sit down."

You go. She chatters, easily fills the silence even with your one word answers. The pizza arrives. You eat under her clear eyes, despite lacking any appetite.

She pets Nigou. "I don't know what to do about him. I can't keep a dog, and I don't' want to put him in the pound. He's just too precious. Look at those eyes!" She tilts her head, and Nigou mimics her. "Aww. He reminds me of someone."

"Kuroko." You say.

Momoi blinks and looks again. "You're right! He looks just like Kuroko. How cute!"

Cute? ...You suppose.

"Do you know anyone who can take Little Tetsuya in?"

Already named him. You tsk internally. Outside, you just shrug. "I can ask at school tomorrow."

Momoi bites her lip. "Will you be alright, keeping him here overnight? I can take him home if you'll get in trouble for keeping pets."

You shrug. "It's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I own the building."

Momoi's eyes are round as coins. "What?" Her voice is squeak.

"Investments." You say, roll your eyes. Your father is a god of money and he turned your various prizes and photography jobs into a truly stupid amount of money. You could live for ten lives on the interest alone. So what does he do with it? Buys a high rise in the middle of Tokyo. Of course. Common sense? What's that?

You don't care that much and it wasn't like you were using the money for anything. Still annoying to have that dropped on you a month after you move in.

"O-oh." Momoi's voice is faint. "You and Akashi really were a good match..."

You blink and look at her. What does Akashi have to do with anything? "Momoi?"

She waves her hands like dismissing her words. "It's nothing! I don't know why I said that - I think I'm just tired. Do you mind if I turn in for the night?"

You stare at her, face still. She's lying.

You let it go. It's not your business. "First guest bedroom is three doors down. Bathroom's on the left. Use whatever you want."

Momoi smiles at you, and this time it's at least half genuine. Her eyes are unreadable. "Thank you, Hana-chan. It's was good to see you again." That sounds utterly honest.

She leaves the room, before you can resond.

You look at Nigou, curled up against your leg. Getting dog fur all over the couch and probably ruining it forever. "People are confusing."

He barks back at you, tail wagging.

Amen to that.

* * *

 **so that was gay.**

 **i won nano and i'm stoked to start up on this story again. momoi decided to be included in this chapter btw, i didn't plan for it.**

 **news: probably moving the update date to sunday instead of monday - monday is just too much of a busy day. i go food shopping for one thing, and that always takes a while. Fang under Fang will be updating more regularly. At least once a month, because I have more time to edit the chapters now.**


	17. XVII

You wake to the smell of something sweet, a heavy warmth across your lap and on your shoulder. Your head is propped up on your fist, and you turn your head slightly to find pink hair draped across your shoulder. Soft breath ghosts across your neck. You go still.

Oh. That's right. Momoi stayed over. The two of you set up on the couches in the living room without speaking about it. You know you wouldn't sleep if you went to your room anyway, and Momoi refused a guest room. The two of you spent most of last night watching bad game shows and not really Momoi wound up pressed into your side, face into your neck.

The last thing your remember is staring up at the ceiling, your eyes press against your skull like heavy marbles.

You...slept?

Your head feels clear for the first time in months.

The weight over your lap shifts and you look down; the dog is curled up in your lap. You pat him. His fur is very soft - Momoi must have cleaned him up. Nigou whines something in his sleep. He had a mouthful of your shirt, getting drool all over it.

You let him sleep. The rising sun doesn't feel as harsh today; it runs a warm hand across your brow, your skin. Your head doesn't hurt as much. Is the secret to sleep just having a warm body beside you when you sleep? You don't know. You always slept better with Kise around, but maybe it doesn't have to be someone you know. Maybe anyone would do.

You already know some prostitutes. It'll be easy to test your theory.

While you think, the sun rises up further, bathing the room in pale gold. You feel Momoi shift and look down; meet her sleepy eyes.

She blinks. "What time is it?"

"Don't know."

"Hm." She seemed out of it, buries her head back into your shoulder, her arms wind around your waist. "Too bright."

"Yeah." Your voice comes out quiet.

She freezes. Pulls back and looks at your face. Her hands are still on your waist. "Hana-chan?" Her voice is half an octave higher than normal. She clears her throat and looks around the room. "Oh... this is your house?"

You raise an eyebrow, your side strangely cold. "Yeah." Is she still half asleep?

She let's go like you became white hot. "Sorry! Sorry, I thought I was dreaming! I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

"It's fine. I don't care." You've never been the type to care about personal space. You sit up and the movement jostles Nigou enough to wake him up. He takes a look at you and his tail wags like he's trying to cool down the apartment all by himself.

Momoi bites her lip. Her mascara is smudged and her hair is kind of a mess. Your fingers itch for a camera. Even like this, she's beautiful. You want to -

\- pain.

You look down at your wrist, startled from the thought. Your hands clenched on the arm rest, and it sends a stinging pain through your wrist again. Last night, you didn't feel anything - but you were pretty gone. Hanging by a thread. You flex out your hands. Pain radiates down your arm like white hot wire shoved into your veins. Ow, you think, almost surprised. How long since you felt anything more than numb?

It... hurts.

You should say something. Wrap it up. Go to the hospital. You don't.

A phone going off, some sort of tinny pop song.

You look at Momoi, and she gives you a sheepish smile before She flips open the phone. "What do you want, Dai-chan?"

You can't hear what he says but you catch the words 'practice' and 'late'. She rolls her eyes.

"I don't want to hear that from you. Besides I already told Imayoshi-sepai that I'd be busy today, so I'm not even supposed to - What? No, not with a guy. Hana-chan. I said, Hana-chan."

Silence. Momoi's brow wrinkles. "What? No. *No. Don't be rude, Dai-chan."

More conversation.

You card through Nigou's fur idly, ignore the shocks it sends through your wrist. You should get to practice, but you don't really want to face the inquisition. Kagami will bitch at you, probably. Plus... this is nice. The sun is warm, and so is Nigou. You were so cold yesterday, and you still are; deep in the pit of your chest the ball of ice hasn't thawed.

Momoi rolls her eyes. "Fine! Oh my god, stop whining!" She holds the phone out to you. "He wants to talk to you."

You raise an eyebrow. "...Why?"

It's not like you're friends. Acquaintances at best.

"I have no idea. Dai-chan's mind works in mysterious ways."

Well. Whatever. You take the phone, ignore the stab of pain that shoots up your arm. "What."

"God, you sound bitchy as always. Punched anyone lately, Hana?"

"Yesterday." You say.

He laughs, mocking. "Typical."

Aomine sounds the same as always; rough, with the undercurrent of arrogance cut through with mocking derision. It rolls off you like always. He'd changed in the last year, going from the sweet, dumb basketball moron, to something more jagged.

"Mmm." You pull your leg up to your chest. Even with his sharp edges, the quiet pause feels easy. Whatever you are, you were something like friends once.

Momoi gets up from the couch and straightens her skirt. It's wrinkled beyond saving. She sighs. "Hana-chan, do you have any clothes I can borrow? I wasn't expecting to stay the night anywhere."

You point towards your bedroom. "Second door on the left. Take what you need."

She flashes you a smile and pads there on bare feet.

Aomine snorts in your ear, and you blink, look away from Momoi.

"What?" You ask, faintly annoyed. Nigou whines and licks your hand.

Aomine scoffs. "You're pathetic."

"Huh." You flop down on your side, scooping Nigou to your chest so he doesn't get crushed. "No one's ever said that to me before." Your voice sounds mystified to your own ears.

You should probably be mad, but it's just interesting in a slightly strange way. maybe its the fact you've slept for once, but everything seems softer today. You have no idea what he's talking about. He sure sounds firm about it, though.

"I'm not surprised. You have that whole crazy eyed Akashi 2.0 thing going on. People are a bunch of pansies."

Everyone but Aomine, apparently. You roll your eyes. "What do you want, Aomine?"

"Momoi told me you joined a team." His voice is low, deep. He sounds so unlike himself and all of the amusement drained out of his voice. "With Kuroko. You're playing basketball."

You tilt your head back, press into the couch back. Nigou whines and pushes his head into your palm.

"Yeah." You say.

Aomine exhales and even without seeing his face, you can see the way his smile is all teeth. "Momoi's never wrong. Still didn't really believe it. Oh man. Fucking _finally_." He laughs, but there's no happiness in it. Only anticipation.

You stare out the window at the city below, watch sunlight skip across the high-rise buildings like a stone across the river. You say nothing.

"This is going to be fun." He says, voice half mad. "See you soon, Hana."

Click. He's gone.

You close your eyes and drop the phone.

Footsteps announce Momoi's reappearance.

"Oh a scale of one to ten," you say without opening your eyes. "How likely is it that Aomine will show up at my school to demand a one on one?'

"Oh dear." Momoi says. "...Nine. Point ninety nine."

You sigh. Yeah. That's about what you thought.

* * *

Your uniform is a wrinkly mess, and your jersey isn't much better and you get the feeling Momoi would protest just wearing them out of the house. You opt for a black tank top and a pair of dark grey shorts instead. Your hair is a mess, and you've got sunglasses and a dog under your arm.

"Won't you be late for practice?" Momoi asks. She's managed to find a outfit worthy of a model in your closet; clean white jacket, dark blue skirt, black shirt that barely fits over her chest, because they were tailored for you after all. It brings out the color in her hair.

You shrug, unconcerned. The concierge in the lobby bows you out, and you flip him your keys and a random bill pulled out of your wallet. One of your father's people.

"Will they let you take the dog in the court?" Momoi smiled at Nigou, who barked back at her cheerfully. He rode in a messenger bag slung over your shoulder.

"They won't be at school today." You say. "Coach will want to train the team."

"That makes sense. Will they be at the Aida gym, then?" Momoi asks.

You give her a bland look. She could at least pretend to not know the backgrounds of all your teammates.

She gives you a sunny smile in response.

You snort and look away to flip open your phone. Well. Information is her job. You don't hold it against her.

Who should you ask?

The idea of talking to Kuroko still rubs you wrong, and Hyuuga will just yell at you. Coach is a no go, because it just seems like a bad idea. You don't actually know the names of the other freshmen. Or the upperclassmen. Aida input all of the numbers into your phone, but hell if you know which name belongs to who.

...Momoi will know. You don't ask; she'll just be disappointed at you.

That leaves Kagami. You tilt your head and consider his name. It doesn't really fit him.

You change his name before you send off the message.

* * *

 _\- hey where r u_

 _Eyebrows: who tf is this_

 _\- guess_

 _eyebrows: hana?_

 _\- got it in one_

 _eyebrows: WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GO BASTARD_

 _eyebrows: COACH IS GOING TO SKIN YOU ALIVE WHEN YOU GET HERE_

 _\- k_

 _eyebrows: I hate you so much._

 _eyebrows: wait are you texting me in english? since when do you_ know _english? why didn't you tell me?_

 _\- u didn't ask_

 _eyebrows: hate. so. much._

 _\- where_

 _\- r_

 _\- u_

 _eyebrows: fucking fine!_

 _eyebrows: coach's gym. i'm telling her you're heading in, BTW. she's going to kill you_

 _\- tattle tale_

 _eyebrows: screw you_

 _eyebrows: coach says you have ten min b4 she comes to find you herself_

* * *

You roll your eyes. "You know where the Aida gym is?"

Momoi smiles, smugness radiates off her. Does she ever get tired of being right? "Of course I do."

"Can we get there in ten minutes?"

She considers. "Not by train."

"Not a problem." You shoot off a another text. Within moments a long black car pulls up to the curb. "I've got a ride."

"Hana-chan. That is a Rolls Royce." Momoi says, voice flat.

You shrug. Normally you take the train, but Aida could be a sadist. The drive opens the door for you with a perfect ninety degree bow. You slide in, with Nigou sniffing the air. It takes a second to realize that Momoi hasn't follow you.

You lean forward to look at her, brush the hair that falls in your eyes away. "Coming?"

Momoi stares at you for a long moment. You can't read her face, but here eyes don't leave yours. She sets her shoulders and gingerly slides in. "I don't think I've ever touched something this expensive in my life. Is... do you own this car as well?"

You shrug. "Maybe?" You don't really know what you own anymore. "My dad keeps buying me stuff, even if I never use it."

Momoi blinks. "That's right. I've only heard about you using Akashi's car."

The car is made whisper quiet. The thousands of people on the other side of the glass feel fake, more fake than they already did. You shake your head, listen to Momoi breathing. "I prefer the train."

"...I see." It's clear from her slight frown she's thinking hard about something.

You pocket the phone, ignore the instant buzz of Kagami's messages.

"Is it alright to ignore those?" Momoi asks.

You shrug. "It's just Kagami."

"Kagami... your american teammate? The tall one with the red hair? You seem to get along with him." She looks out at the street.

You shrug. "He's okay."

Fussy though.

Momoi eyes narrow, but she smiles a beat later. She inches closer on the seat, hooks her arm around yours. "So! Tell me about your new team, Hana-chan. Are there any cute boys? Besides Kuroko-kun, of course."

"Information gathering?" A bubble of amusement rises in you.

She pouts. "Am not!"

She absolutely is.

"You can meet them yourself." You say.

* * *

The Aida physical center is a big place, state of the art. Chrome and white walls, with gleaming tile floors and various posters of famous athletes hand in the lobby. Or, you think they're famous. You don't know much about sports still.

You're not ambushed the second you step through the door, like you half expect. In fact, the gym is empty. Momoi looks around. "Did they say they were coming here? I don't even see anyone manning the desk."

Nigou pops his head out of the bag and barks twice. You feel his tail thumping against your side. You set the bag down and he hops out and makes a beeline for the door. You glance at Momoi. She shrugs.

The two of you walk in like you own the place, and Nigou leads the way.

You find The team is sat on the floor in a break room around a low table, Kagami and Kuroko on one side and the coach and captain on the other. Both the freshmen are pale, sweating. Aida looks exasperated . None of them look up when you walk into the room.

You go to the table and raise an eyebrow at the papers spread over the table. Tests driping in red ink. You feel the teacher's resentment and despair through it.

"Wow. You're both idiots." You say.

"Hana-chan," Momoi scolds you.

"Shut the fuck up, Hana - Hana?" Kagami's head whips around and he starts to his feet.

Aida jerks around.

You raise an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"Don't you _what_ me, asshole. Where were you?" Kagami's eyes sweep over you - looking for something. He gets to your feet and goes pale. "Is that a fucking dog? Why is it in here?"

You shove your hands in your pockets, ignore the shock of breathless pain that shoots up your wrist. "Around." You ignore the dog question. You really don't want to explain how you found him.

"Around _where_? We called you like fifty times! Next time you disappear, at least tell your fucking team." He seems to forget the dog and scowls at you, but there's something you can't quite place underneath it.

You tilt your head, trying to think of where you recognized it from. You search back, before it hits you.

Nijimura, after you asked him to teach you.

"You're... worried." You sound out the word like it's foreign. It might as well be - You can count on one hand the number of people who care enough to worry about you. Kise, who stayed with you through your worst moments. Your parents, who love you more than life. Kasumi-nee, because despite everything, she takes her role as an elder sister seriously. Nijimura, because he's a chronic worrier and never grew out it. It wasn't strange for him to pick something and fret over it.

Others, they look at your overwhelming talent and insane wealth and rarely see the person behind it. Even Akashi never once worried about you. What would someone like you have to worry _about_?

You get it. Not like they're wrong, right?

You're fine. You're always fine. You can understand your parents and Kise and Kasumi, even Nijimura a little bit.

Kagami is different. He barely knows you, certainly doesn't _like_ you.

"Why?" You ask.

Because you're on his team? Because you play basketball with him?

Kagami's eyebrows lower down. "Why what?"

"Why are you worried? I can take care of myself."

"Why - why? You ran off into a thunderstorm with nothing but your uniform! You wouldn't answer your phone. Everyone was worried! We had no idea what happened to you!"

You glance at the team. Find them watching you and Kagami, quiet in a way you can't read. Hyuuga expression is angry - but you don't think it's at you. For once.

 _Everyone_ was worried.

You meet Kuroko's eyes. Look at him for the first time. Same blank face, same flat eyes. It's worse than normally. You can't read him, even have trouble focusing on his form. He wavers like pavement on a hot day. Wonder if he worried as well.

You snort and look back to Kagami. "Sure."

You doubt it. If Kagami doesn't like you, Kurko hates you. Truce or not. Teammates or not.

Kagami pinches the bridge of his nose. "Unbelievable. You've been here for five minutes, and I already have a headache. Just - shut up for a second. Did you eat anything today?"

You pause, think back. Shrug at last. "I don't remember."

Kagami sighs. "What a shock." he walks over the his bag, grabs something and walks back to you. He throws it at your head.

You catch it without thinking - and hold in the white hot burst of agony that shoots up your arm.

Yeah. Your wrist is _super_ fucked up.

A bread roll crinkles in your grip. It's another weird, beat up one - Pear flavored? Where does he keep getting these? You eye it dubiously. "...Thanks. I think."

He rolls his eyes at you. "Just eat it, Hana. You can't keep skipping meals like that -"

A soft touch to your wrist. "Hana-chan. Will you introduce me to your team?" Momoi voice is as soft as her fingers. You almost forgot she was there in the face of Kagami's... Kagami-ness.

You raise an eyebrow at her. "You already know all of them." It's not a question.

She smiles and hooks her arm around yours. "Of course. It's still polite to pretend."

One of the freshman's gasps a little. You look at him, but he's focused on Momoi - or more specifically her chest, pressed against your arm. You forgot the effect she has on boys. You give him a flat look and he flushes and looks away.

"Well, if we're being polite." You don't shrug her off, despite the eyes of the team on you. "Kagami Taiga, Momoi. Momoi Satsuki, Kagami."

Momoi smiles, but her are familiar from two years of seeing her at games. Calculation. Weighing and measuring, pulling Kagami apart in her mind until he's nothing but a string of data. Whatever she finds makes her grip go tighter. She leans her head against your shoulder. "A pleasure to meet you, Kagamin. And the rest of you as well!"

"Uh - nice to meet you too? Wait, what the hell is a Kagamin?" He looks at you. "Why do all of your friends give me weird nicknames?"

"Maybe it's just your face." Maybe it's his stupid eyebrows.

He glares at you. "What the hell does that mean? I'm not one of the creepy doll twins!"

Momoi leans forward, blocking Kagami from your line of sight. The smell of lilacs drifts past you, and you blink. "My, your team is so full of lookers Hana-chan! I'm jealous, I only have Dai-chan and a bunch of smelly brats." The smile she gives is Kise-bright. "Thank you so much for taking care of Hana-chan for me!"

What is she, your mother?

You can almost see the boys shift as one, red on their cheeks. Aida, however, merely raises a brow and steps in front of the team, arms folded. "Of course. Hana is one of our players. Speaking of, Hana. You have some explaining to do." Just like that, Aida dismisses Momoi and waves you over. "The rest of you, get back to work."

You sigh. This is going to be a pain, you can tell. You take a step forward - and stop, when Momoi's grip tightens once more. You look at her. Her smile is still there, but a crease appears between her eyebrows.

"Hana! Hurry up!" The coach snaps.

"Momoi-san."

Both of you blink at the sound of Kuroko's voice, mild as milk. He gives Momoi a look you can't read.

Momoi takes a deep breath and lets go of your arm. "I need to talk to Kuroko-kun anyway!"

"...Alright." You say.

She gives you a blinding smile and turns to him. "Kuroko-kun!" Momoi exclaims, only to throw her arms around him and pull him into a hug. 'I missed you! It's been ages, and you haven't called me once!"

"Momoi-san. It's good to see you again." Kuroko's smile is barely visible, but for him it might as well be uproarious applause.

...Oh.

You're not surprised, you just... forgot about her crush on Kuroko. No wonder she wanted to come with you. You scratch the back of your head and take a step back out of the crowd. Press your bad wrist to your side and the twinge of pain eases back the sudden itch to *bite. You glance at him, just long enough to catch a glimpse of their pale hair close together, talking lowly. You look away; something sour sits in your mouth, under your tongue.

* * *

You go to the coach. She watches the boys watch Momoi and Kuroko with jealous eyes. Her arms are crossed. Her mouth is hard. "Who is that, and why is she in my gym, distracting my players?"

That... wasn't what you expected her to ask.

Kuroko says something low that makes Momoi laugh, and the rest of the team murmur with jealousy in their voices. You don't look over.

"Momoi Satsuki. Know her from Teikou. Manager for Touou now. Smart." You shrug. "Not her fault boys are stupid."

Aida glances at you sharply. "You brought a spy with you?"

You just look at her. "She's already got everything the moment she looked at us. She doesn't need _me_."

"...how good is she?" Aida's face is less hostile and more considering now.

You glance at Momoi, still wrapped around a blank faced Kuroko, then away again. "The best."

Aida rubs her forehead. "Is she here to try recruiting you and Kuroko too?"

"No." You don't even need to think about it.

For all that Momoi cares about the Miracles, about Kuroko, about you... Aomine will always come first for her. Everything else might change, but not that. Maybe she wants Kuroko at her school. Maybe she came with orders to try and recruit. Momoi won't. Not when she knows Aomine looks forward to your match. Not when you have a chance of knocking him off his throne, back into the mud where he was happier.

You can respect that. You look down at your wrist, the black band around it.

You did the same thing for Kise, after all.

Anything at all, for him

THe coach looks at you, surprise on her face. "Really? How do you know?"

You shrug again. "Aomine wants to play me. Can't do that if I'm on the same team."

"Aomine Daiki. One of the Miracles." Aida says. "You knew him."

"Yeah." You say. "If you want info on him, ask Kuroko. They were best friends."

The coach's eyes go wide. "What?"

What? You tilt your head. "Well. Yeah. Aomine was Kuroko's first light."

She gapes. "W-what? I thought you were his light at Teikou!"

You blink. "Me? I didn't even play. Seirin is my first time."

"But - Kuroko and you always talk about you like you were on the team. One of the Miracles. All of us thought you were the phantom sixth man!"

You fold your arms, lean back against the wall. "I was... like them." Smart and strange and feared. They look at you without flinching. "But I'm not one of them. Not really." You look at your feet, abruptly tired. The electric lights hum.

Yeah. You're still not like them even now.

They, at least, earned their talents. Grew their skill out of long nights practicing and countless games. Whatever came out of it, however they ended up, at least they did it _honestly_.

You?

It's still so fucking _easy_ you couldn't see the point in it.

Still can't.

"Hana."

You look up at Aida, who meets your eyes without flinching.

"Don't disappear again." She says. Her voice is quiet and serious. "I mean it. I don't care if you go, so long as you tell someone you're going. It doesn't have to be me. It doesn't even have to be someone from Seirin. Just do it. Do you understand me?"

She's trying to order you around. The idea of it is almost amusing, in a way that's not quite humor. You feel old and tired. You press careful fingers against your broken wrist and breath with the pain of it. Keep your poison behind your tongue. "You're a little young to be my mother, Coach."

Aida doesn't say anything; she just looks at you with serious eyes, her mouth a flat line.

You - look away first. "Fine." You say, the word heavy in your mouth. "I'll tell someone next time."

She studies you a moment longer, and gives a sharp nod at last, satisfied. "Good." Aida throws an arm around your neck and tows you back to the group.

Kagami seems to be trying to pretend very hard the papers on the table don't exist.

"How are you so bad at English? You're American." Kuroko voice is very judgmental. Momoi sits by his side, Nigou sat in her crossed legs. The puppy wags bounds up to you and wags his tail.

"Look - this," Kagami waves at the table. "This is not English. This is _gibberish_. Mary and John and - whatever! No one talks like that!"

"Kagami's just a basketball idiot." You sit down next to Momoi, across from him. "If it's not orange and round he's not interested."

Kagami glares. "Don't call me an idiot! You're always asleep in class anyway. What the fuck is your rank?"

You raise an eyebrow.

Kuroko sinks lower in his seat.

Kagami notices and scowls. "What?"

Momoi laughs, hand over he mouth. "Hana-chan was always in the top five at Teikou."

You snort and throw the paper back on the table. Wasn't like Seirin is more difficult than Teikou, even as if it's high school compared to middle.

"What?" Kagami spins to Kuroko. "Is that true?"

Your shadow sighs, rubs his face. "...Unfortunately."

"How? You never study!"

You shrug. "Natural talent."

"...I hate you so much."

Aida rubs her chin, obviously thinking. Your stomach sinks, but she nods decisively before you can say anything. "Alright! Hana!" She points at you. "You're in charge of your teammates from now on! Get them up to your level."

"That's impossible." You say, voice flat.

"Oi!" Kagami says.

Aida is merciless. "Too bad! Just do your best Hana. Consider it punishment for making me worry about you."

Ugh.

You put your head down on the table and Nigou licks your hand.

At least _he_ cares.

* * *

 **is it gay enough yet**

 **also i published a new story collection called The Hourglass. it's a bunch of short stories about original characters that never made it past the first chapter or so. i got tired of just them just sitting around in my docs lol. also i found like... ten of them in my evernote files? i don't remember writing any of them so they're old old stuff**


	18. XVIII

**this is shorter than normal because it just did not want to get written**

 **also an attack of 'holy shit, everything i write is terrible garbage, burn it with fire' that passed kind of slowly.**

* * *

You sit down at the table, papers set out before you. Aida is hard to refuse and, frankly, you just don't have the energy to fight it. So.

Grading Kuroko and Kagami's work like an underpaid tutor.

"No one has explained why there's a dog in here." Kagami eyes Nigou, sleeping on his back with his paws in the air, tongue lolling out.

"Kagami-kun is afraid of dogs?" Kuroko's voice is bland, but Kagami glares at him anyway, like Kuroko said something worse.

Smart of him. Kuroko is the most underhanded of the miracles.

"I just don't like them." Kagami says. "I don't know why anyone does."

"Found him yesterday. He's a stray." You neglect to say how you found him, though your wrist has gone from a low sting to a constant, grinding ache. It keeps you focused. "Need someone to take it."

Momoi giggles. "Hana-chan rescued him! He was running around in the trash, the poor thing."

Kuroko blinks slowly. "Mashiro-san. Rescued a puppy." He looks at you. "Are you sick?"

"Fuck off." Your continue through the papers. God, even Kuroko isn't much better than average in most places. They're both basket ball idiots. It's amazing.

"Eh? You're not going to keep it?" Why did Kagami sound so surprised?

The puppy blinks awake, rolls over - and over, bumping up against your leg without ever getting to his feet. You ignore it, but he doesn't seem to care, content to squirm into your lap.

"No." You say. "I don't like dogs. Kagami, how did you even get into this school? I've seen grade schoolers with better handwriting."

"Like it's my fault you weirdos needed three alphabets to communicate. English only needs twenty six letters! Twenty six! It's so stupid - ack."

Kagami cuts off when Nigou pops up onto the table. You nudge him out of the way absently. He licks your hand and you roll your eyes.

You glance up fast enough to see Kuroko and Momoi exchange a look.

You narrow your eyes at them. "What?"

"Nothing." Momoi says, unconvincingly.

Kuroko speaks up before you can say anything. "Does he have a name?"

"...Nigou." You say, for some reason feeling like you've lost.

Kagami blinks. "Number 2?" He says in english. "I don't get it."

You pick up the puppy by his scruff and hold it across the table, next to Kuroko's face. Two identical pairs of ice blue eyes blink at each other.

"Kuroko Number Two." You say.

"...Holy shit." Kagami leans back, like being blue eyed is contagious. "There's two of him."

"That's perfect, Hana-chan!" Momoi says, stars in her eyes. "You get two tetsu-kuns, how lucky! I'm so jealous."

Kuroko remains blank faced when the puppy's tail starts to slowly wag.

You drop the dog on the table, and he barks cheerfully at Kagami. Kagami flinches back and scrambles away from the table. Nigou follows him, tail wagging at this new game.

At the same moment, Momoi's phone rings. She glances down at it and gives you and Kuroko an apologetic smile. "Sorry! I have to take this, I'll be right back."

You prop your head up on your hands and watch her go, pink hair swaying. The table is quiet, Kuroko and you content to sit in silence.

You meet Kuroko's eye. _Aomine_?

HIs mouth jerks down the slightest bit. _Likely_.

… You're doing the telepathy thing again. You scowl slightly and look away.

You don't like many things. It might have something to do with the dark, or maybe this body replaced joy with talent until no room was left. But this, sat in an out of the way corner with the chaos of Seirin playing out behind you - this is almost close to peace. You're not... happy. You might not be capable of that anymore, because it seems like you lose a little more of the ability with every year that passes.

But - you're not numb. Sometimes that's all you can ask for.

"Mashiro-san is angry at me."

You continue to flip through the paper without looking at him. "I'm not angry."

Kuroko is the master of judgmental silences. Too bad you're immune.

You shrug. Tell the truth. "I don't care about you enough to be angry."

Not for long anyway. There was a moment last night when you wanted to peel open your head, let the violence that lives in your bones, your darkness out into the light. It was only a moment, though.

"...Mashiro-san is my light." His voice is tight, unhappy.

Now you look up, face blank. So was Aomine, and he threw you away, you don't say. You don't want to do this. You don't want to talk about yesterday, the way Midorima looked at you like you hurt him. The way you hesitate to touch things sometimes for the reason that you'll break them. The way your wrist throbs with every movement.

Everything you do is wrong in some way, and you've learned to live with that. What else can you do?

You flip over one of the tests. Kagami, dripping red. "For now." You say. "But, you've had other lights. You'll find someone new. "You glance over your shoulder at Kagami, who was hiding behind the coach, away from Nigou. "I'd say you already have."

"That's unfair." He says.

You shrug. "But true."

Kuroko sighs. "I do not want to fight about this."

"Were we fighting?"

It's only the truth. You know he prefers Kagami, and who can blame him? You know your own personality, your own skills. It's not strange to be the last pick. Kagami is what Aomine used to be. You're… you. Talented, of course, but that's it. Too sharp, to mean. You're not in denile. You just don't see the reason in pretending.

Kuroko only shakes his head. He looks over your shoulder at the puppy barking and playing with the team. "...You named the dog already." After him. The question is clear, even with his frozen eyes. After him?

Kuroko Number 2.

You glance up at him, but his face is even more blank than normal. "Yeah?" Your voice is a dare.

He sighs and shakes his head. "Nothing. I cannot take him. My house doesn't allow dogs. I doubt Kagami will either, judging by his fear."

"I'll find someone." You say. Even if you have to speak to your father. Nijimura will take him, if it comes to that. He owes you a favor.

"You're giving him away?" You look up when Aida walks to the table. "I thought he was your dog."

"Just a stray."

"He seems pretty attached to you." Aida folds her arms, a look of contemplation on her face. "The team is already in love with him, I can tell. If the dog brings the team morale up, then we have to keep him."

"He's not bringing _Kagami's_ morale up." You point out. You can feel the burgeoning of something you're not going to like, the way it always is when she gets that look on her face. You can't count on Kuroko to save you, he's already gone fuzzy in the corner of your eye, playing on his phone. If you're having trouble seeing him, that means no one else is even going to notice that he's gone.

Asshole.

Aida waves her hand, like Kagami's fear is something unrelated. "That's beside the point. We're keeping him! Like a mascot - it's a good idea."

"And who," You say, more out of sense of inevitability than any real desire to know. "Is going to keep him?"

Aida beams at you. "You are, of course! You already gave him a name and everything!"

Of course.

* * *

Aida doesn't give you the time to protest; she folds you into practice like you were never missing. Besides, what would you say? 'No, I didn't name him, I knew his name from a manga I read in another life?'

Yeah. That'd go over well. You have no energy to argue and no real reason too. It's not like you can't afford a dog.

Drill after drill, pass after pass, yours harder than everyone else's. Maybe it's the night of peaceful sleep, but for once, feel your body working body. The stretch of your muscles burns. The breath in your lungs tastes clean. Water is sweet. Everything feels smoother. The basketball doesn't feel as heavy. Even the other freshman don't grate as much, or the roars of 'Kuroko, don't sleep!' when your shadow falters.

Kuroko can't keep up with the rest of you - his stamina is still shit. You shove him back upright before he hits the ground again, and he blinks and shakes his head before moving back into motion. Nigou follows after him, barking cheerfully.

Kagami is laser focused for once, not on bothering you, but watching you with narrowed eyes; watching you move up the court like you were born to it. You slow down just a fraction, repeat the move and see a moment of understanding pop up on his face out of the corner of your eyes.

He follows after you, movement clumsy. You repeat, he repeats, better this time. You and Kagami don't have the years of familiarity of You and Kuroko, but you're getting there. He's nothing if not tenacious.

He grins at you, all teeth. "Do it again."

You're in a good mood, so you oblige.

Your wrist is the once sour note in a symphony. Every passing moment leads to a growing ache, like a vise slowly closing around it. Every time you forget, you move carelessly, the ache transmutes into something white hot and stabbing.

You glance under the black wristband. Red and ugly, swollen to twice its size. You rotate the joint and pain stabs up your arm.

Definitely broken. You take it in your other hand, squeeze down. Pain. You feel it more than ever, present in your body for the first time in months, in years. You should go to a hospital. You should tell the coach.

You don't do any of that. Too much work. You press your wrist until white stars burst in you vision, face utterly blank.

You're fine.

* * *

Aida calls for a break just before the team hits the point of too exhausted. She really is a good rest of the team is panting, drenched in sweat. Even you start to feel a little worn. Only a little. Probably.

Hyuuga takes one look at your utterly unmoved face and groans. "God, I hate you." His voice lacks heat. He flops down onto the floor. "That's it. I'm done. I'm not moving until my next birthday. Or Until Hana shares her secrets."

Kagami, not much better, scoffs. "What secrets? Hana's just a freak."

"Rude." You say.

Hyuuga moves his head the bare amount to glare at you out the corner of his eye. "Shush. Freshmen with insane stamina don't get to say anything." He paused. "Although, I guess it's better than having Kuroko fall asleep again."

Kuroko, face down on the gym floor, only groans.

"Just call it fainting." You say. "That's what he does."

Hyuuga ignores you. "God, if we could mush you and Kuroko together, we'd have an almost perfect player. Talent and drive..."

He's looking you over with speculation on his face. You give him your best deadpan stare.

He sighs. "Of course, we'd never have any idea what you were thinking. Damn poker faced freshmen."

"I have no idea what you mean." You say. "I'm always perfectly clear."

"Blunter than a tire iron to the face." Kagami mutters.

You kick him not so gently in the side. He catches your ankle and yanks. You turn the movement into a controlled tumble. His breath wheezes out when your knee accidentally shoves into his stomach.

A momentary scuffle breaks out, pushing and shoving, until Aida comes over to break it up. "Children, enough! If you have that much energy, go get us some drinks."

Kagami, one hand shoving your head away, the other fending off Nigou, groans. "Captain, I'm exhausted!" He whines, like Hyuuga can do anything agianst the will of the coach. The boy is like wet paper in front of her.

Aida is unmoved. "Should have thought of that before you started wrestling than. Chop chop! Kagami, get everyone's preferences!"

"What? Why me?"

"Because Hana terrifies half the team."

Kagami makes a face, but get up; you sympathize. Arguing with her is just too much effort. He goes off to talk to the rest of the team, and Aida wanders off to go torture some of her other players. This leaves you and an exhausted Kuroko alone on the floor. You get to your feet and brush off your pants.

Kuroko finally turns over, and his face is pale. "Get me a pocari sweat." He croaks.

"Get it yourself." You say on automatic.

He narrows his eyes at you. You stare back. Kuroko's Look might work on the miracles, but you've never been afraid of him. No matter how petty his temper could get.

Momoi's return breaks up the stare off. There's a worried crease between her eyebrows. Nigou runs up to meet her but she only gives him a distracted smile. She sits down next to you without saying anything.

You frown. She was gone for nearly two hours. Too long for a simple phone call. Her skin was almost pale as Kuroko's.

Kuroko finally gets to his feet, and gives her a tiny glance. His mouth goes tight. "Momoi-san, is something wrong?" His voice is gentle and you're surprised for some reason.

Oh, right. Kuroko is a gentleman when the girl isn't you. You forgot about that.

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I need to talk to you about something. Privately."

Kuroko glances at you for some reason. You raise an eyebrow at him.

It's none of your buisness if she wants to talk to him.

You were expecting it, honestly. You already know she likes him. Momoi never hesitated to go after what she wants - you're surprised she didn't just walk in and declare him her boyfreind, like in the manga.

Nigou barks and you look at him. He nudges your hand with his cold nose and tucks himself under your arm. You realize you're squeezing your bad wrist again and let go with a deep breath. Not your business.

"Alright." You hear Kuroko get up.

The sound of their footsteps is strangly loud; you hear it even over the low chatter of the team around the gym. You don't look up until Kagami comes back. You open your bag and Nigou jumps in without prompting. He's already used to being carried around. You stand up and walk up to Kagami.

Kagami gives you a disgruntled look. "Do we have to take the mutt?"

"No." You adjust the bag with Nigou in it back onto your shoulder. "I just want to. Need to pick up supplies. Coaches orders." If you have to suffer, then you're taking him down with you.

"Has anyone told your you're a petty bitch?"

You yawn. "At least I'm not failing half my classes."

He splutters. "It's in a different language! I'd like to drop you into an American school and see how well you do!"

"I think I'd be fine," You say in perfcet, unaccented english. "How _were_ your grades in America, Kagami?"

"...I hate you so much."

You exit the building through the back, past the fenced private courts attached to the building. Of course Kagami picks up a ball lying on the court and starts dribbling. The sound thumps against your ears and you can feel a headache building up.

"Wanna play?" He asks.

You stare at him, face dead. Nigou wiggles under your arm until his head pops out of the bag. "Do you have selective memory loss? Did you already forget we're on a snack run?"

You just got done with practice. Why is he so eager to continue? You'll never understand basketball idiots.

He makes a face at you. "It's just a question." He spins and ducks on the court, shadowing invisible opponents you can just make out - you're starting to understand the rhythm of the game, no matter how reluctant you are. The sun is low in the sky, and wispy clouds glow yellow and red around it. You fold your arms in the shadow of a tree growing off to the side. You contemplate, a little anoyed, just leaving Kagami to get the stuff by himself.

A flash of blue out of the corner of your eyes interupts your simmering anoyance. You turn your head, more on instinct than anything else.

Momoi and Kuroko sit on a set of steps leading up to another entrance. There heads are bowed together, Momoi leaning on Kuroko's shoulders. Light falls from the glass door behind them, lending them a soft yellow glow. She smiles, bright and soft, at Kuroko and then at the blue sky. Her eyes are closed. Content. Kuroko looks almost speak but you can't make out the words.

You take two steps forward, as if pulled by a string tied to your chest. Something sour climbs up from your stomach.

Momoi laughs, and you... stop.

You stand there, watch them talk for another moment. Just inside the shadow of the tree, you feel your stomach go tight.

She looks happy.

Ah, you think while looking at them. There's the crush. Now that they're at different schools, time with him is scarce. You could go over there and interupt. Momoi is your friend too. You have the right.

Would she smile at you like that? If you went over?

You doubt it.

You... want her too, though. The thought is slow to form and hard to understand. You can't rember the last time you wanted something outside of a quiet place to lay down and scilence. it's strange. Uncomfertable. You sigh, scratch your neck. You want to go out there, but Momoi looks so peaceful. You don't want to see her look at Kuroko like that. It feels like acid. Something inside your stomach burning through you. Your wrist aches.

But.

Momoi is your freind.

For once, you… don't do what you want.

You owe her that much.

Instead you turn away, back to Kagami. You step onto the court, steal the ball from a startled Kagami, dribble twice and toss it behind you.

"Let's go." You say.

Swish goes the ball through the net.

Kagami stares at you - and then he laughs. "God, you're such a showoff." He throws his arm around your shoulder and you let him drag you off the court, towards the convenience store at the end of street.

"If you got it, flaunt it." You shrug. No point in hiding what you can do. If you feel eyes on you while you walk away, it's probably just wishful thinking. No one calls out to stop you.

* * *

 **next chapter: Aomine, Hana's poor life choices, a surprise**


	19. XIX

Kagami carries a basketball under one arm, the other shoved into his pockets, a bag laden with snacks hanging off his wrist. The weather cools with the setting sun, a sweet smelling breeze pulls leaves when it blows past the two of you. You follow Kagami up from the train station, your own bag hangs off your good wrist. Nigou seems content to sit in your bag as he watches people board the train behind you. The rest of the snacks are arranged around him, almost burying him from sight.

You feel the sun on your face and look up at the city, scraping the sky. It glitters in the light. Kagami perks when he notices a few college age boys playing a pick up game. He glances at you, hopeful.

You roll your eyes. "We literally just got done with two hours of practice and you want to play more?"

He rolls his eyes at you. "You wanna play or not?"

You snort. "Not."

Still, you don't protest when he heads to the court anyway. It's not like you want to go back to practice. Kagami integrates seamlessly into the group, and you lie down in the grass beside the court, flat on your back, heedless stains or their eyes lingering on you. The sky is blue and fat white clouds drift over it. You feel... not tired for once. Maybe it's that you got more than two hours of sleep. Maybe it's the pain in your wrist pushing the exhaustion back.

Nigou climbs out of the bag and over you, licks your face with enthusiasm. You scratch behind his ears and close your eyes. A basketball dribbles in the background. It's a familiar noise. You can almost pretend that you're back in Teikou, waiting for Kise to finish practice.

You... miss your camera. You miss missing things. Your elementary school days were blurry spots in your mind, like you can't quite relate to the girl in your memories. She was happy, in her own way - Then the minutes started piling up, like being buried stone by stone. Every moment grew harder to bare. You don't know if you can make it another year, another month, another week. Momoi can't spend the night every night, and the apartment isn't getting any better.

Maybe you should... fill it? Like, decorations and stuff. Personalize it. Maybe it wouldn't feel so steril then.

...sounds like so much effort though.

You'd have to deal with neighbors in a normal building. You could buy the thing out and pay everyone to leave?

...That sounds like a very super villain thing to do.

"Kagami," you say without opening your eyes. "How do you take over a small apartment building without becoming a cliche evil businessman?"

The basketball stopped dribbling. "How big of an apartment building are we talking? Twenty stories or something smaller?"

"Smaller." You consider it. "Two or three stories."

"I don't know. Maybe you can't. Why not build one from scratch?"

Because new things make you disconnect from your body. You don't say that.

"Dude, we're in the middle of a game! At least look like you're trying." One of the college kids said, disgruntled.

"Yeah." Another one says. "Quit flirting with your girlfriend! How dare you show off your lovey doveyness in front of us lonely senpais! Kids these days have no respect."

"What? Who am I dating?" Kagami sounds confused.

"The pretty girl!"

"...What, Hana? Are you delusional?"

You think you should be insulted.

"Why are you out with her then?"

"We're teammates!" Kagami snaps. "What does this have to do with the game?"

"Oooh. Explains the bags. Helping the manager with her chores, huh? You're a good kid."

"Not a manager." You say, without opening your eyes.

Kagami laughs. "Yeah, no way. We'd die of neglect or she'd poison us. Hana's a player."

"...What? She's tiny. How can she play basketball with the boys?"

You almost hear Kagami's eye roll. "Hey Hana!"

The whistle of air is the only warning you get. You catch the ball before it hits your face, and the shock of pain leaves you breathless. You throw the ball up in the air, feel it trace a path in the air.

Swish goes the net.

Your eyes are still closed.

"Holy shit," one of the boys whispers.

"Yeah." Kagami says, wry. "Don't worry about Hana. She's the best on the team - for now, anyway."

You tilt your head and open your eyes to meet his gaze. A bone deep determination fills them, a wordless promise: He'll be better than you, one day.

You yawn and close your eyes again.

You're counting on it.

* * *

You must fall asleep, because the next time you open your eyes, it's to a sky more purple than blue, and you can't feel the sun anymore. Nigou has your shirt in his jaws, sleeping. You blink up at the sky, eyes heavy.

You hear Kagami's sneakers squeak against the blacktop - familiar by now. You turn, look. The streetlights aren't on yet; you were asleep for an hour at most and the college kids left.

Kagami is still going and it looks like all of his attention on the court. What would it feel like to have that much fun with basketball? Kagami shines with it, it makes him want to play and play and improve and you don't understand why.

It's only a game, and even an intresting one.

A streak of blue crosses the court, knocks the ball out of Kagami's hands and - shoots.

Midorima makes elegant, perfect shots, time after time. This is nothing like that - it's speed, too fast to take in. It's clean and brutal at the same time. It's familar.

A perfect three pointer.

"Who the hell are you?" Kagami demands.

You blink once, slow and steady. Blue hair. Dark skin. White teeth bared in a grin. For a second you feel oddly betrayed. You can't believe Momoi told him where to find you.

"Aomine." You say.

 _What a pain._

"Yo, Hana." Aomine's voice was deeper, and he was taller, more filled out. "Man, you're really here. Satsuki's information network is incredible."

Kagami glanced at you. "You know this asshole, Hana?"

"Aomine Daiki. Strongest of the Generation of Miracles and Kuroko's old light." You say, voice flat and uninterested. You don't miss the way Aomine's shoulders go tight at Kuroko's name.

"What, seriously?" Kagami asks.

Aomine laughs, a sharp unpleasant sound. "Hey Hana," Aomine says, grinning. "Play a game with me!"

"Pass." You say immediately.

Aomine smirk never drops. "You're the same as ever. Worse than Murasakibara."

You wrinkle your nose. "Don't compare me to him." Ew.

He rolls his eyes. "Swear to god, you two are exactly the same."

Both of you pause, stare at each other. For one second you feel the fabric of Teikou's uniform against your skin and you're a year younger.

Before that disastrous game that split Kuroko and Aomine apart, Aomine found you on the rooftop while you skipped class and asked you to play a game with him. But it was different this time - quiet desperation rolled off him, obvious as the color of his hair. He came to you with dark eyes and quiet mouth and you knew this was it. The last moment you had to change things for him.

You could see it in his eyes; the longing, the desire for a challenge. The arrogance around him like a shield. You recognized the look in his eyes, that horrible boredom that asks: Is this all there is?

One game and you could stop his downward spiral. You owed him for Kise. You even liked him, in small doses.

The thing was - you didn't _know_ if you were better than Aomine. In raw talent you were equal, but Aomine'd played his whole life. He devoted most of his waking hours to playing basketball and practicing and you were limited to the occasional midnight game with Nijimura when neither of you slept.

You need two things to get to the Zone: Talent and love of the game.

Aomine had both.

You very much do not.

Maybe you win. Maybe you lose.

It was a bad day. Your hands felt like stone, your heart a heavy, sharp rock lodged in your chest. You ached somewhere in the back of your head, to the point where you just wanted to lie down and close your eyes forever.

He said: "Please."

And you said no.

Aomine glared at you, frustrated. "Why the hell not?"

"...Too much effort." You said.

Aomine stared at you and you watched his expression change like a light going out inside his eyes. "You're just like the rest of them." He said. "No one even wants to _try_ anymore. Hah - I guess it doesn't matter in the end. The only one who can beat me is me."

He left you up on the roof, and you felt almost empty watching him walk away.

It's a shame, you think, that he turned out the way he did. But you knew you didn't have it in you to be anyone's pillar of support. Not when you were already crumbling.

"Don't you have practice?" You ask.

Aomine snorts, spins the ball on his pinky almost absently. "When I heard you joined some no name team with Kuroko, I couldn't belive it." He eyes you with a look of anticipation in his eyes. "Though you might be a challenge."

You give him an unimpressed look right back. "Your captain doesn't care?"

He shrugs. The sunlight turns his skin to gold. "I win. That's the only thing that matters."

Victory is the only thing. The Teiko motto. You could skip class after class but it didn't matter so long as you kept up appearances for the schools fought a lot in the first year, bruised your knuckles on the faces of seniors who thought you were easy to intimidate into your "proper place".

You know your place: wherever the fuck you want.

Above average looks, top scores, unending skill at sports, international acclaim as a photographer, wealthy family- you should have been their golden child, the pride of Teikou, their female Akashi. They wanted a soft, smiling girl, delicate and perfumed. They wanted you, blunted.

You were like Akashi - and nothing like Akashi at all. He wore his title as role model like a mantle, did his best to be everything to everyone. It's the difference between the two of you. You didn't have the energy to pretend for a bunch of people who don't matter. Akashi was a bonfire, banked and tamed so people could bask next to him, you were a house fire - just as likely to consume those who stood to close.

"Satsuki told me about your team. This is who you and Kuroko play with?" Aomine glanced at Kagami and scoffs. "What a joke. I'm disappointed, Hana."

"Fucking excuse me?" Kagami glared at Aomine, face to face. "You wanna play, asshole? I'll kick your ass!"

Aomine scoffed. "Please, you're not even on Kise's level. Like you could beat _me_. I didn't come here for you, anyway."

Quicker than the eye could track, Aomine threw the ball at you. You don't have time to think - compared to Kagami's earlier pass was like comparing a breeze to a hurricane. The ball hits your hand - and your whole arm goes numb.

 _Ow._ You think, as the ball slips from nerveless hands. It bounces across the court. The street lights click on with a quiet hum.

"Hana?" Kagami voice is alarmed.

Aomine doesn't seem surprised. He steps up to you, grabs your wrist and pulls down the back wrist band down. The ugly purple-red of your wrist is obvious in the light. Your wrist is twice the size it normally is.

"Hana, what the fuck is wrong with your wrist?" You don't look up, but you can hear the tightness in Kagami's voice.

It's not really a question, so you don't say anything.

Kagami makes a wordless sound of - rage or helplessness. You can't tell. You watch the trees sway in the wind. Pretend the wrist grasped in Aomine's hand belongs to someone else - it's easy. His grip is gentle, despite the sneer on his face.

He drops your wrist. "You really haven't changed at all." He shook his head and looks at Kagami. "Good luck, asshole. Glad she's not my problem."

"Are- are you not concerned about this at all? I thought she was you miracle freaks friend?"

Aomine laughed. It was sharp and cold and you recognize it from the voice in your head. "We're not friends." He said. "Kise's the only one of us she actually cared about. The rest of us were too much _effort_."

Your wrist aches. Nigou's ears lie flat, and he puts his cold nose to your neck. It's a point of focus, and you blink back from drifting.

"...Whatever." Kagami's voice is low and serious. "Get lost. I've got a teammate to take care of."

Aomine snorts. "A teammate, huh? It's not like your lame school will hold her for long. Eventually she's just going leave and go somewhere she can get a fucking challenge. You better get used to playing without her while you can."

Kagami's brow draws down.

You don't say anything.

* * *

Coach doesn't take the wrist well - and that's an understatement. The lecture lasts all the way to the hospital and through the wait to see the doctor. You sit next to her and let her. Kuroko radiates quiet, unrelenting judgment beside you.

The doctor examines your wrist - it's badly broken.

Three weeks to heal.

Aida is quiet for a long moment, her mouth a thin line. "There's no way to get it done faster?" She asks. "Hana is our best player. Is there anything...?"

The match with Touou is in two weeks.

You look at your wrist. Think about Aomine's eyes. A band of black and a promise.

Your mouth draws down.

You don't like making a liar of yourself.

The doctor gives Aida a sharp look. "No. Heavy use of the wrist will result in permanent damage. If it was set early enough, it would take less time. It's only because of practicing while injured that it's as bad as it is."

Aida takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, doctor. Thank you for your help."

The man softens. "Of course, Aida-kun. I know this is hard to hear, but I also know you understand how serious an injury of this type can be." He shakes his head. "You young people and your sports. You think it's life and death, but you have to take care of your bodies. It'll outlive all of your games."

Aida thanks the doctor again and the three of you step outside.

Not before the doctor hands you a bottle of pain killers. You stare at it and swallow, hard.

The rest of the team is outside - the seniors anyway. Hyuuga takes one look at Aida's grim face and sighs.

"I'll talk to her." He says to the group, then takes Aida aside and a low conversation brakes out between them. You watch their dark hair blend together, a low buzz of static in your head.

Koga and Mitobe share a glance and the Mitobe puts his hand on your shoulder.

"Hyuuga will calm her down. Let's go before she remembers you're here."

You nod once. Your face feels plastic, blank.

They seem to have a destination in mind. Koga chatters at Mitobe in front of you. You and Kuroko walk behind in silence.

You flex your fingers, but the anesthesia is working. All you feel is a slight twinge.

The bottle is a stone in your pocket. Heavier than it should be. There are thirty pills the bottle. Enough for a month.

It would be so easy. So _simple_ -

You have to get rid of them.

Aida will notice if you don't use them. Kuroko will notice. They'll ask why.

Deep breaths. Pretend like you can't feel your stomach roil with nausea - and _want_.

You can't give the pills to anyone on the team because they'll want to know why you can't keep them.

You're... reluctant to explain.

...You were planing on testing your theory of sleeping next to someone anyway. Plus you need help with Nigou now and a part of you still wants to keep all traces of basketball out of your apartment.

In fact - you already have someone in mind. The two girls who cut your hair, one of them would work fine. Girls worked better for you, because inviting a guy to your would absolutely give them ideas. Plus, they were call girls. They'd be fine with the 'sleeping in your bed' thing. If they weren't, you'd just find someone else.

Say she's your girlfriend, or something.

The plan settles your mind enough to pay attention to your surroundings again. The four of you stopped at an open door to a plain looking hospital room. Koga knocks on the door frame.

"Hey, Kiyoshi! You in here?" Koga calls out.

...Why did that name sound familiar?

* * *

 **holly shit this is late and shorter than normal but i pulled a muscle in my leg and frankly i'm in too much pain to care**


	20. XX

**an: long time no write**

* * *

"Come in, come in," Kiyoshi waves the four of you into the hospital room. It's a three person room, but the other two beds are empty. The green curtain parting Kiyoshi's bed from the rest of the room is frog patterned. The room itself is a mess, like a tornado hit. Clothes on the floor, little knick knacks all over the counters, various empty snack bags. The tell tale signs that someone's lived there for a long time. "Finally taking the time to introduce the first years to their poor, forgotten sempai?"

Koganei rolls his eyes. "You've got crumbs on your face."

Kiyoshi blinks and wipes his face. "I just got a new salty crackers from Jiro-san. I'd share it with you, but I don't want to. No snacks for teammates who forget to visit for a month!"

"Don't be like that. You know we're in the tournament right now. We have to train." Koganei looks at you and Kuroko. "This is Kiyoshi Teppei. Weird, but harmless."

You get a look at his brown hair - are realize: _that_ Kiyoshi. You recognize him, not even from the manga, but from back when you were dating Akashi. One the few opponents Akashi couldn't shake, didn't move.

"I know who you are." You say. Kiyoshi tilts his head, and his smile is hard to read. "You're that guy Murasakibara hates."

Everyone looks at you. What? You remember how much Murasakibara, who didn't care about his opponents, bitched about this guy. You're inclined to like him just for that. Much as you like anyone, anyway.

"Murasakibara as in the generation of miracles Murasakibara? That one? Tall, purple, bored looking?" Konagei says.

"Are there any others?" Two Murasakibaras... the thought is unpleasant.

He studies you, and it feels like being dissected. Then he laughs and the feeling of being put under a microscope dissaper like it never existed in the first place. He holds up a pack of cards. "So you're the new face, huh? The only girl to our little family. Riko must be ecstatic to have another girl on the team. Wanna play a game?"

You look at Kuroko. He gives a minuscule shrug.

"What type of game?" You ask.

Kiyoshi rubs his chin. "How about... goldfish?"

"...Whatever." You move to the bed, pick your way around the trash on the floor in the meantime. "You're kind of a slob."

Kuroko sighs behind you. "Mashiro-san, please mind your manners."

All three of the upperclassmen jump.

"Kuroko! When did you get here?" Koganei demands. "I thought we left all the first years at practice."

You blink, once. The world shivers in the corner of your eyes, Kuroko wavers in and out of focus like a paved road on a hot day. Like he's a ghost.

You feel sick, under the cotton of the drug.

You ignore it and sit on the bed next to Kiyoshi. "He was here the whole time." You say.

Koganei sighs. "You always say that."

"It's always true."

Kuroko bows to Kiyoshi. "Hello, sempai. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Kiyoshi smiles. There are crumbs around his mouth. "You're the phantom sixth man of Teikou, aren't you?"

"...I am." Kuroko glances at you for some reason. You raise your eyebrows at him. The minute twitch of his eyebrows would be a scowl on anyone else.

"That's a pretty fancy nickname." Koganei says. Kuroko shifts but says nothing.

Koganei glances at Kuroko. "Well, it doesn't matter anymore. You're not Teikou, you're Seirin." He claps Kuroko on the shoulder hard enough that Kuroko staggers. "Let's pay a game. Deal me in, Kisyoshi!"

You see take a deep breath out of the corner of your eye, then let it out. His shoulders slump, his hands relax. It looks like he put something heavy down. Like being doused in water after a long time on fire. You can almost see the smoke rising off him.

Kuroko's smile is tiny but present. "Yes. Let's play a game."

You look down at the bed.

Kiyoshi pulls out a pack of cards and a vicious round of goldfish starts.

"Looser buys the snacks!" Kiyoshi says.

"Oh you're going down." Koganei promises. Mitobe gives a silent nod at his side.

* * *

Kiyoshi is weird and likable, and you know why Murasakibara hates his guts. He's upbeat, cheerful and clearly loves basketball. He listens eagerly to what the team's doing.

(You're pretty sure that Kiyoshi is cheating somehow, because when you count the cards in your head, it just doesn't make any sense. It's challenging without being draining. Keeps your mind off the bottle in your pocket.

It's a good enough distraction.)

"Rematch?" You say. You and Kiyoshi tied, somehow. You want to figure out he's cheating.

The two senpai and Kuroko are gone to get drinks as a punishment for losing when the door bursts open.

Kiyoshi jerks and his cards go up in the air. "Holy shit! Oh, uh. Don't repeat that."

You stare at the door, at the person in it, eyes wide.

"Hana, are you okay?" Kise, gold hair a mess, stood in the doorway, chest heaving. "Kurokocchi said... you were in the hospital! What happened? Are you sick? You never get sick! Are you… " He seems to wilt visibly with every word out of his mouth.

You're going to kill Kuroko. The thought is distant, behind the buzzing confusion in your head, like your head is a hive of bees. Your chest feels tight. The cards slip from your loose grip and join Kiyoshi's on the floor.

You stare at Kise.

The silence stretches, and you - don't know what to do. It doesn't seem real; a quiet panic sits at the back of your throat, your chest feels tight. Off the basketball court, under the hospital lights, you study your brother.

Taller. Longer hair, more piercings in each ear. His makeup is a little smudged on the left eye, like he put it on in a hurry. He looks - healthy under the worry on his face. Happy.

It's like the two of you switched lives when you hit highschool - Kise found the passion he longed for, while you haven't had the motivation to even look at a camera in months. You can't even be angry. Ever since he was a kid, he's wanted to love something.

Your mouth falls open, but nothing comes out.

"A friend of yours, Hana-chan?" Kiyoshi breaks the silence.

You jolt like he pushed you, and finally lower your cards. "My brother. Kise Ryouta. What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

He blinks. "Hanacchi, you're the one in the hospital."

 _Oh. Right._

You glance down at your wrist, and than back up quickly; like Kise will disappear if you look away for too long. "I'm fine. Why are you here?"

"Hanacchi - your wrist is broken." Kise shrinks, steps back from the door. His mouth is an unhappy line and you don't know what you said wrong. The bubbling confidence, the glittering smile is nowhere to be seen.

 _I hurt him again_ , you think though you don't know how.

"Where else would I be?" Kise asks.

You don't know what to say - so you say nothing. All you do is hurt him lately.

"Oh my god," His captain stood behind him - Kasa-something? - and scowled at the you and Kiyoshi. You didn't notice him, too distracted by Kise. His eyebrows were almost as impressive as Kagami's. Kasa-whatever's voice is horrified and impressed. "I thought you were an asshole, but you're - you're just _like that_." He shoves Kise forward, into the room and steps in after him.

"Kasamatsu-senpai!" Kise glared at him, but Kasamatsu just gives him an unimpressed look.

"Look." He says to you. "Kise came over because he was worried. So can you please show him you're fine so we can go back to practice."

The words are coherent, but. You don't understand. You stare at him, and after a moment his face starts to flush.

You almost bristle at Kiyoshi and Kasamatsu, usher them out of the room. It feels to strange to have them here, where Kise is vulnerable.

The only reason you don't is then you'd be alone with Kise; you still have no idea what he wants, no idea why he's here.

For some reason you look at Kiyoshi, like he can explain what you just heard in smaller words.

He smiles and nudges you with his elbow. "That's nice of him, isn't Hana-chan? You should say thank you."

"...Thanks." You say, because you don't know what else to do.

You thought - Kise didn't call you. So you thought he was done. Moved on.

Why is he _here_?

You clamp your teeth down on the question, and the the tightness in your stomach grows worse.

You swallow. "I'm... fine. Just a broken wrist. No complications. It doesn't even hurt anymore."

Kise forces a smile. "Well - well, that's a relief. Kurokocchi made is sound pretty bad!"

Just like that, the conversation is over. Fuck, how do you talk to people? You've always known you were bad at it, but you also never cared about it before. It was easy with Kise, easy as a three point shot. You've lost the ability to make him laugh, to live in easy quiet.

Even the silence is harsh.

"I got a dog." You offer out of desperation.

He blinks and his shoulders relax a bit. "Really? When? Where is it?"

"...Yesterday. I found him. With Momoi." Was it only yesterday? The past seventy hours felt like a few months. Words stick in your throat like passengers on a too crowded train. "Kuroko has him."

"What's his name?"

"Nigou." You say, carefully picking out the word.

"Number two? Who's the number one?"

"...It's short for Kuroko Number Two. Because. He looks like Kuroko." You say. The name sounds dumber now that Kuroko isn't in front of you to taunt.

Kise laughs. "Really? I'm jealous, have two Kurokos. Can you take care of a dog with your wrist like that? Do you need help?" He hesitates. "I could help you if you -"

Kasamatsu smacks him over the head. "No, you can't. We have practice to do! You can't run around after your friend's dog."

Halfway off the bed, you freeze. Right. You take a deep breath. You can't punch Kise's captain for a love tap. For one thing, your wrist is broken (not that you couldn't take Kasamatsu with one hand). For another, coach would probably kill you for getting kicked from the tournament. Kise didn't even flinch so it wasn't that hard.

You slowly unclench your good hand.

Look up. Find Kiyoshi watching you with unreadable eyes. What does he see?

Do you want to know?

You exhale and put your hand in your pocket, stand all the way up.

"Aww, captain." Kise whines.

You want to ask what changed, but you're... reluctant to lean on this acceptance, because it might shatter under you. So instead you say: "I've already got someone to help me with stuff. Thank you." You add. It sounds weirdly formal.

Kise stops playing with his captain to look at you. His eyes are sharp, a reflective gold mirror. "Momoicchi told me you get along with Kagamicchi. Is he the one helping you?"

You blink. "Kagami? No. He doesn't even like dogs." Why would Momoi tell Kise that?

"Oh, so Kurokocchi?"

Why was Kuroko the next choice? "No. No one from the team." Fuck it. In for a penny, in for a pound.

He blinked. "Do I know them? Do your parents know them?"

"No. I don't think so."

A hit of a frow showed on his face. "I really don't think you should let a stranger into your house, Hanacchi. You can be kinda..." He gestured at you. "Like if someone isn't physically murdering you, it's like you'll let them do anything."

"I broke my wrist getting into a fight." You say, voice dry. "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, when you want to."

Which. Wasn't wrong.

Maybe he can read that thought on your face, because Kise's frown deepens. "I really think you should let me meet them."

You don't have anyone yet, though.

And then. For some god awful reason, you open your mouth and say: "It's my girlfriend."

It's. your. Girlfriend.

You say.

You know. _Like a liar_.

Kise and Kasamatsu's jaw both drop. You don't have to look Kiyoshi to feel his eyes on you.

"Like... like a friend who's a girl?" Kise says weakly.

You take a deep breath. You don't like lying, but if you're going to make up with Kise, there's a chance he'll find you in bed with the person you're hiring. What are you going to say?

You can't stand the beat of your own heart? You hired someone to manage your pills, because you can't - you can't do it yourself?

 _Yeah right._

(The bottle is cool and smooth under your unbroken hand.

Take your hand out, cross your arms instead.)

"No. Like a girlfriend. Dating." You say with a shrug. Casual, think casual.

"W-who is it?" Kise leaned forward, until only Kasamatsu's grip kept him upright. "When did this happen? How did I not know?"

You lean slightly back. "I met her when I went to the salon. She cut my hair?"

Can't tell him _where_ you got your haircut.

"So she's older?"

"...Yeah?"

Kise straightens abruptly. "I want to meet her."

It's not a question this time.

Well. You were already playing on introducing her to your parents, in the hopes of fending off the inevitable bodyguard when they find out about your wrist. Or your father's paranoid surveillance sweeps you're not supposed to know exist. Adding Kise to the plan should be fine.

You shrug. "Okay."

Kise stares at you. You stare at him.

"Well?" He crosses his arms. "Call her here."

You blink. "She's working."

"So?"

"Oh my _god_ ," Kasamatsu says. "Kise, sometimes people are busy. That means they don't have to cater to your whims."

Kise eyes you, before he nods sharply. "Alright. We need to get back to practice." He points at you. "Call me when you set up a time!"

"Okay?" The day is too fast for your brain. The drugs slow you down, make the lights brighter and the colors overwhelming. You feel like your feet can't touch the ground. You feel like your spine is rooted to the earth.

You feel nothing but the cast under your good hand.

Kasamatsu rolls his eyes and pulls Kise out of the room. The door shuts behind him.

You run a hand through your hair and the silence stretches out like a violin string, your last nerve. You wait for the inevitable question, but Kiyoshi only picks up the cards. You watch him.

He looks up and smiles. "Play again?" He asks.

And nothing else.

Your shoulders slump.

"Alright."

You resolve to put this day out of your mind. You're too fucking tired to worry about it now.

* * *

Kuroko comes back with Kagami, Hyuuga and Aida in tow. The coach has a stack of dvds in her arms and a scowl on her face.

She points at you. "Hana, you're forbidden from playing at all this week! That still doesn't get you out of training. Here." She dumps the dvds into your arms. "Past games of Touou and the rest of our opponents! You're going to study them until you have them memorized."

You look at the dvds and at her. "Okay." It's more of a question than anything.

Aida ignores it. "Good. Now shoo! Go home and get a start on those! Don't get into any more fights."

Just like that, you, Kuroko and Kagami are kicked from the room. Kiyoshi pats you on the head before you leave, and you stare at him, startled. You can count the people who treat you like a kid on one hand and have fingers left over.

"Man, what did she even call me here for?" Kagami grumbles. He glances at you. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." You're always fine.

Kagami accepts that with a nod and stretches his arms up. "Man, I'm fucking starving. Let's get something to eat."

He walks off, and you trail a little behind next to Kuroko.

"You just missed Kise," you say, voice flat.

Kuroko tilts his head, face unchanged. "What a shame."

Tch. You shoulder check him, then take your bag and Nigou back from him and drop the subject.

* * *

The three of you wind up in Maji Burger again. A different one from your normal, but all Maji Burgers look the same on the inside. Plastic and the smell of grease. Kagami orders twenty burgers, Kuroko a milkshake.

You're not hungry. You order a box of fries anyway, because if you don't get something, Kagami will force on of his burgers on you anyway.

You freeze. the phone like the vibrations come from the tail of a rattlesnake. No one calls you. Even your parents know that texting is more likely to get a response.

Nijimura.

You narrow your eyes at the phone. Aomine, Kise, Kiyoshi, Nijimura - if Murasakibara or Akashi show up, you won't be held responsible for your actions.

You stare down at the phone like it's a snake.

It keeps ringing, the same impersonal tone it always has.

"Are you not going to answer?" Kuroko asks after a few moments pass.

Wordless, you flip in open and put it to your ear.

"Hana. Are you going to tell me," Nijimura's familiar voice comes through, low and annoyed, "Why did you just pay for a hospital visit?"

"...How did you know that?" You ask.

"Because your father, in his infinite wisdom, put me in charge of managing your money and investments." A sound of glass on glass and a car door shutting in the background and Nijimura sighs. You can almost see him rubbing his forehead the way he used too when the miracles were being particularly obnoxious. "Apparently you don't care if I lose all of your money."

You make a face. "...Okay." That's fair. You care about money only as far as it can get you stuff you want. You don't desire it. Something about being a dead girl walking makes the concept of money foreign to you.

You can't take it with you, so you might as well let Nijimura play with it. He's one of the few people who seems to care about you on a personal level.

"Wait, are you the one who bought that high rise then?" You ask.

An embarrassed silence. "I... might have gotten a little too enthusiastic."

You snort. That's one word for it.

"Who're you talking too?" Kagami asks, mouth full of food. Gross.

"Someone from middle school." You say to him.

Kuroko watches you with narrow eyes. "...I was not aware that Mashiro-san kept in touch with anyone from Teikou."

You snort. "What, like I have to tell you everything?"

"Don't you sass me." Nijimura says. "You went to the hospi-"

"I was talking to Kuroko," you say.

"Kuroko? Oh, right. He goes to school with you. Tell him I said hi."

You roll your eyes. "Kuroko, Nijimura says hi."

"What?" Kuroko's head jerks up, eyes wide.

"What?" Kagami says, startled by Kuroko's reaction. "Who's Nijimura?"

"The former captain of the Teiko basketball team. I wasn't aware that Mashiro-san knew him on a personal level."

"The things you don't know about me could fill a book." You say. "What the hell did you want, anyway?"

Kuroko blinks. "I do not want anything."

"Not you." You say.

"What?" Nijimura asks.

...This is stupid.

You get up from the table, throw down a bill without looking at it. "Hang on." You say into the phone.

"Bye." You say to Kuroko and Kagami. "Got shit to do."

Kuroko blinks and makes to stand up as well. "Do you require help?"

You give him an odd look.

He hesitates for a second, then visibly draws himself up. "Mashiro-san's wrist is broken."

...and?

"Don't you need help getting home?" Kagami asks.

Kuroko nods.

You feel goose bumps spreading over your skin. It's weird to see Kuroko attempt being nice to you, and you're not sure how much you like it.

"No. I don't need your help." You say, because you've got plans for after this and you don't want him coming. He's already proven he's willing to talk to Kise about you.

His hands clench on the cheap Maji burger table, going an even paler white. His mouth purses.

Kagami watches the two of you with dark eyes. For once you can't tell what he's thinking.

"...Thank you, though." You add, your tone turning it into more of a question.

Maybe it's just - you're tired of being angry. You don't have the energy. You feel flat, underneath the false relaxation of the drugs. Like you've been wrung out, like your brain twists upon itself.

Kuroko studies you, then slowly sits down again. "Goodbye, Mashiro-san."

"Yeah. See you tomorrow." Kagami unwraps another burger and takes a bite.

"...yeah." You roll your shoulders and walk out of the restaurant.

"Awkward." Nijimura mutters at your ear. "You're so bad at people. It'd be funny if it wasn't so sad."

The moment broken, you sigh. "Shut up. Come pick me up, I need a ride." Right now the thought of pressing up against strangers on the train makes your skin crawl.

"Yeah, yeah. Tell me where you are then."

Before you leave, something makes you glance over your shoulder. Neither Kagami or Kuroko look after you. Their heads are bowed together over the table, talking in low voices.

Red and blue. There's something about it, the place you left closing naturally.

Maybe you should've skipped the fries. Your stomach feels a little queasy.

* * *

Nijimura shows up in a long black car, and for some reason you're not surprised.

You open the door without waiting for the driver to get out and do it, and you slide in.

Nijimura stares at you, face carefully blank. He looks different - his clothes are clearly better quality and he got a new haircut that brought out the angles of his face, made him look older.

His eyes are the same.

The phone in your hand clicks shut. "So. You're my butler now?"

Nijimura gives you an exasperated glance, and just like that the strange tension breaks. He's the same kid from middle school, no matter how fancy his dress.

"My hate for you," he says, "is bigger than the Tokyo Tower."

You give him half a smile.

He rolls his eyes. "Butler my ass. I'm more like your financial babysitter. Investing, paying rent, paying employees, managing your money. That also means any big purchases you make go through me."

You have employees?

Nijimura glances at your wrist. "What the hell happened? You never get hurt."

You shrug. "I got in a fight."

"I figured that part out." His voice is dry. "That's nothing new. I'm asking what makes this fight different from all of the others."

The sunlight shines weak through the black tinted glass windows, but it's still warm. You sink down in your seat. Contemplating his question. It's your money, and it's not really any of his business.

Nijimura is always honest with you.

"You won't tell my dad." You half ask, half order.

He gives you an unreadable look. His eyes flick down to your wrist. "...Sure."

"I..." You make a face. Why is this so hard? It's like the words are stuck at the back of your throat, like trying to speak around a hand clamping your mouth shut. "I've been having trouble sleeping."

Nijimura waits, and you're relieved. You don't know if you can start again.

You look down at your hands, the unfamiliar cast on them.

"I figured out that I sleep better with someone in the room with me. So." You shrug.

"You used to live with Kise." Nijimura says.

"Yeah. Used to do a lot of things."

You don't say anything about Kise. It's been three months away from him, and one look tells you what you already know; he's grown up.

Grown past you. He might not be happy with you but it's clear he's happy with his life.

Kise is happy, away from you.

You don't want to see that. You're too selfish to deal with it.

Nijimura hesitates. "You and Akashi dated. Does that mean you slept with him too?"

You shrug again. "Sometimes."

After a few moments pass, Nijimura sighs. "You can't just have Kise or any of your friends stay with you?"

You look at him. "Are you volunteering?"

Nijimura drops his drink.

You tilt your head and study him. He's good looking, well dressed, already knows your family. You're friends, probably.

"You're not exactly my type." Nijimura glances down at his stained shirt, calm restored.

Yeah. Your hair isn't red enough.

You already told Kise it was a girl though. Shame.

"I figured." You say with a shrug. "I'm just going to do what any rich kid would. Not like I have to worry about the cost."

"...Hire someone?"

"Yup." You write the address down on the back of the Maji Burger receipt and knock on the partition keeping the driver separated.

It slides open; you hand the diver the address of the corner you got your hair cut.

You look down at the cast on your wrist, face blank. Dark fur obscures your vision when Nigou shoves half way out of the bag, wriggles around and licks your fingers.

What did animals need? You look at the dog and realize how tense your shoulders are.

"I'm pretty sure that's illegal, Hana. Hana?" Nijimura's concern adds another stone to the mountain you feel piling up on your chest.

You can't take care of another living thing. You can barely take care of yourself - you forget to eat and sleep and _live_. Your breath is shaky and you press the fingertips of your good hand into the cast. It doesn't feel like anything; the medication leaves everything dulled.

...You have to get the bottle out of your possession as soon as possible.

(Every day is a gamble.

A question: Is today the day you give up?

No. Not yet.)

Inhale. Exhale. Feel the numbness inside you spread, feel the pain-killers fill up the inside of your head like spiderwebs.

"I'm fine." You say. Look up, face calm.

You're _fine_.

You meet Nijimura's eyes without flinching. It's like standing on the other side of a thick glass wall. You see his eyes narrow, the way his hands go tense, but it means nothing.

 _He_ means nothing.

You mean the least of all.

You let yourself fall over, a slow collapse onto your side. You stretch over the seat and . "Wake me up when we get there." You close your eyes.

You hear Nijimura sigh. The shift his expensive clothes. A cool hand touches your forehead. "Okay. It makes sense, in a Hana-ish way. Let's go."

Sleep takes you.

* * *

 **im back bitches! hah i had like four days off from work this month and i was sick for three of them.**

 **question: if hana had went to hogwarts, what house would she get?**


	21. XXI

**ha ha poor hana**

 **for the hogwarts thing: pretty much everyone said Hufflepuff, which. Fair. Authorial approval. Hana is a hufflepuff, the worst one in history. Slytherin was second, ravenclaw next, and gryffindor a very very distant fourth.**

* * *

The red light district is much less crowded in the daytime. You make your way to a familiar streetlight, more on instinct than anything; your feet remember the way. You wandered a lot during the last year at teikou.

The corner where you got your haircut is the same, across from a broken down stip club and a pink neon sign proclaiming 'girls girls girls'' flickering against the blue sky. The alley smells like flat water, left out to long. Everything is washed out.

It's a different time of day, but you find the girls in the same spot - not that they're girls. Both of them are at least ten years older than you. They work in a pair, they told you that night. Two for the price of one. It's safer that way. They look like a pair - same glitter bright clothes, long nails, short skirts. Even their hair is dyed complemetary colors, pink (harsher in color than Momoi and obviously dyed) and purple.

Purple hair has a phone in her hands, and she's staring at it with furrowed brows.

Pink hair spots you first and she nudges the other. "Gotta repeat customer, Ayu."

"Quit it, this is important - oh." She tilts her head. "You gotta problem with the hair cut? We don't do refunds."

You shake your head. "I'm here about something else." You pause. How do you put this? "I need someone to sleep with me. On a regular basis."

Both the hookers stare at you.

"...You're a little young for me." Ayu said.

"Pretty sure that's a crime." Pink hair agrees. "It's a crime, isn't it?"

"Pretty sure prostitution is a crime." You say, voice bored.

Ayu pushes her friend off her without breaking eye contact. "You got a lot of money, kid? You payed a fuck ton for a simple hair cut."

You shrug, hands in your pockets. "Yeah."

She crosses her arms, phone in one hand, boosting her already normal cleavage almost unconsciously. "I've got this cousin. Nice girl, smart as hell, pretty as a dove. It's just her father is a piece of shit. Made some bad deals with people he had no business dealing with. I told her to get out… but it was too late. That asshole took off, left her to deal with the Yakuza on her own."

"And you want me to help her out." You say.

Ayu's smile is hard. "Seems like you need someone. I ain't gonna do it. Yakuza respect money more than anything else."

She's not wrong.

You shrug, tired. "Fine. Give me the address."

Pink hair makes a sound of surprise. "Man, you're really easy going, huh? Ain't you worried about dealing with Yakuza? God knows everyone else is."

You shrug. "It doesn't matter to me."

Pain doesn't scare you; it's not like you're afraid to die.

Ayu pats down her pocket and comes up with a marker. "I don't have any paper."

You offer up your cast.

Ayu blinks, but writes an address on the cast. "...what happened?"

You shrug again.

Ayu shakes her head. "Whatever. None of my business. My cousin lives in the area. It's not that far. Her Karou is Karou. Tell her Ayu sent you." She glances over her shoulder, down the street as if wary of being watched. "Hurry. I can't get in contact with her anymore. I don't know how long she has."

* * *

The apartment _is_ close. You walk the winding streets, back alleys so narrow you doubt any cars have ever made it down them. It's a bad area, worse than the main red light streets. Those have to be at least acceptable because that's where most of the business takes place.

Not here. Most apartments are dangerously dilapidated, missing handrails and paint peeling. The smell of uncollected garbage is inescapable.

You're being watched.

There's no one out on the street, but curtains twitch as you move past. You figure out why quickly.

In front of one particular apartment there's four expensive, sleek looking motorcycles. Tacky dragon decals cover the most expensive looking one. You nudge it with a foot. Maybe you should get a motorcylcle.

Something to think about later.

You head up the rickety stairs, to the second landing, jumping over the rotting wood steps. There's a man standing in front of apartment 12, black suited, hair dyed a bright garish red. His stance is wide and his hands are clasped in front of him. The tip of a tattoo curls out from under his sleeve.

Looks like your in the right place. You search through your bag for a moment and come up with a shity beat up juice box. Kagami probably put it in there. After a moment you pop the straw and take a sip.

Pineapple flavor?

Where did he even find weird drinks like this? It's a mystery.

"Scram, Kid." The Yakuza - Red Hair you christen him in your head - sneers down at you. "We're doing business."

You count three knives in the front, poorly concealed. You take another sip, face blank. The taste is growing on you.

Red Hair shifts a little closer. "You fucking deaf, bitch? Clear off!"

You meet his eyes evenly. His breath smells like cigars and his pupils are the size of quarters. Drugged? How to take him down… trip him? Head to the knee and he'd be out for a while. Pretend to leave and come back with a brick? Take the knife carelessly sticking out of his belt?

"Wh-what are you looking at bitch?" Like everyone you look at for too long, his face grows pale.

Yeah, you can take this guy even with your arm in a cast.

After a second you sigh. No, can't do that. You promised you wouldn't fight. "Move." You say, voice bored.

"What?"

You take a step forward, put yourself nearly chest to chest with him. You tilt your head. "Get. Out. Of. My. Way. I have business."

He stares down at you, face pale. "Y-you a messenger?"

A messenger? "That's none of your business."

He's not listening, nodding to himself. "Right, right. No way a kid who looks like you not ain't of us. You got something for Ookabe-san?"

You look down at your clothes. Red tank top, black basketball shorts, large black hoodie. Nothing you're wearing screams Yakuza messenger. But ...sure, why not. "Still none of your business."

He holds up his hands. "Right, right, sorry kid. Too big for small fry like myself." He opened the door and bowed to you. "Ookabe-san is inside."

You breeze past Red Hair without looking back. You have no idea what he's babbling about, but you're inside and that's what matters to you.

It's a one room affair with worn wallpaper and ragged carpet. It's a mess, honestly. Glass and dirt and potted plants shards litter the floor. Under all the mess, you can tell it was well cared for. Little figurines lined most of the shelves, nearly all of them smashed at this point. The only unbroken one is a happy looking glass shiba dog.

There are three people standing in the middle of the room, three men, one with a black goatee, one with a bright green shirt, and one with a vicious looking scar on his face, bisecting the corner of his mouth.

There was a girl kneeling by the remains of a splintered table. Karou, probaly?

The Yakuza with the goatee glared at you. "What the fuck? Who the hell are you? What the fuck does that idiot think guard the door means anyway?"

You take another sip of the juice, ignore the yakuza's rant. You look at the girl on the ground. Pretty, enough that you wouldn't mind working with her as a model. About seventeen or eighteen, dark, dark blue hair down to her shoulders in a flattering cut that framed her heart shaped face. You wonder if Ayu cut her hair too. "You Karou?"

The girl blinks. "Y-yes?"

"Don't fucking ignore me!"

"Got an offer for you." You say.

The girl glances at the yakuza. "U-um. Like a job?"

The Yakuza grows and makes a grab for your collar. You take one step back, let him sail past you. Rude. "Do you mind? I'm trying to make a deal here. Could you call off your dog?" You ask the eldest yakuza - Scarface. Ookabe?

Scarface studies you. "Aki, knock it off."

"But Ookabe-nii, she just -"

Scarface only has too look at Aki to reduce him to a muttering sulk. "Relax, kid. She's not someone you can take. You ain't Yakuza, are you girl?"

"Nope." You pop the end of the word. Scarface gives off the impression of a large cat, patiently waiting for it's prey to make a fatal mistake. There's an odd shape under his jacket. A gun, maybe? This guy might actually be a challenge.

"We have business with this girl. Whatever yours is, it'll have to wait." Scarface says. "Her old man owes us a lot of money, and we intend to collect in full."

Karou flinches. "I already told you, I have no idea where he went! He just disappeared."

Aki sneered. "Then you just have to pay with your body, bitch."

Hmm. This is getting annoying. You chew on the straw, other hand in your pocket.

You contemplate just leaving and finding someone else. But then you'd have to search and find someone who's good at cutting hair, and honestly, you just can't be bothered.

"Karou, can you cut hair?" You ask before you forget.

THe girl blinks. "Yes? My cousin taught me some."

Good enough. You already walked all the way here, after all. It seems like a paint to go anywhere else. "Alright. Hey," you say to Scarface. "How much does she owe?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Thirty thousand dollars."

You nod and grope around in your pocket for the wallet you took off Nijimura because you don't carry cash and you doubt the Yakuza take credit. Scarface tenses, but you ignore him and pull out the wallet. It's a nice in brown leather and even stitching. The Mashiro company logo is stitched in discreet black on the side.

You pull out a couple bills, raise your eyebrow at the numbers on them, and hold it out. "Keep the change."

Scarface stares at you, than slowly takes the money and counts it out. "...This is fifty thousand."

Aki makes a strangled noise.

Right? Who carries around that much money with them? Maybe you should talk to Nijimura about his stupid habits. It's just asking to be robbed.

"Alright. Pack it up boys." Scarface waves his underlings out. He gives you a glance. "You got a Karou, kid?"

"That's not really any of your business." You say.

Scarface nodds, unsprised. "Fair enough."

With that he's gone, and it's just you and Karou in a ruined apartment.

You brush some of the splinters away from the table and sit down across from her. She follows your movements like a rabbit confronted by a hunting dog. She wets her lips. "What… what did you want?"

"Like I said." You shrug. "I wanted to offer you a job. Ayu sent me because she thought you could use the money. And a rescue?" You add as an afterthought. "I need a bed warmer, basically. The job comes with free room and food, with a ten thousand dollar a month salary. Two month minimum requirement, while this," you gesture at your cast. "Is healing."

Karou is pale. "And if I refuse?"

You shrug. "Than I find someone else. But," You nudge a bit of the table splinters out of the way. "It beats staying here."

Her hands are white knuckled on her knees. Her head is bowed. You can't see her face. After a long moment, she exhales and looks up. Her mouth is set with determination. "I have nothing to lose, do I? If Ayu can do it, so can I. I accept your offer."

Nice. Fake girlfriend get.

You nod and flip open your phone. "Alright. Grab what you need. We have to take you shopping." You say, eyeing her clothes. Nice, but clearly hand me downs. Your father would throw a fit. "Also, how are you with dogs?"

She blinks. "What, we're going now? But I - um. I'm okay with them? No allergies or anything."

"Perfect." You say.

* * *

The car is oddly quiet. You ignored the hard stare of Nijimura and the awkward covert glances of Karou if favor of staring out the window. Nigou sniffs at Karou's hand barks once and runs over the seat to settle in your lap. You pet him.

"I can't believe you made a deal with the Yakuza." Nijimura says. "I don't know why anyone lets you out of the house."

"I own the building, thanks to you. It's not like they can stop me from going out. Also," You pull out the wallet. "You carry way too much money on you."

Nijimura catches the wallet - and rolls his eyes. "That money was from your dad. He said it was your monthly allowance. He gave it to me because I was heading to you anyway."

You frown. "I have an allowance?"

Nijimura makes a disgusted sound. "Never mind. Not like you ever buy anything anyway. "

"Um." Karou spoke up for the first time. "How… did you know I was in trouble?"

Nijimura glares at you. "She didn't explain anything, did she?"

The girl sat as neatly in the expensive car, but you can tell she's uneasy about it. "Not really."

"Yeah. Better get used to that. Hana's always been like this." He reaches out and scuffs up your hair. You let him.

"Hey. I tell people what I want them to know." You say.

"Hana… is that your name?" The girl asks.

Nijimura freezes. He turns slowly to look at you. You studiously stare out the window.

Okay. He might have a teeny tiny point.

But only a small one.

Nijimura takes the time to fill Karou in on the way to your apartment. You need to get her some clothes, but you've had your fill of humanity for the day. the thought of trying to go to one of your father's favorite stores made your skin break out in hives.

Finally, Nijimura flicks your forehead and looks at the girl. "This is Mashiro Hana." The girl flicks her eyes between the two of you. "Yeah, _that_ Mashiro."

"Oh." Karou says, voice high and thin. "No wonder she has that much money just lying around."

"Tell me about it." He glances at you, than at her. "You know you don't have to do this. Hana's not the type to force people."

You can feel her attention flick to you. You say nothing; just keep looking out the window. It's not as bad when there are people in the car with you. Less disconnect from the mass of humanity outside. You like it.

"I know." She says, voice barely audible. "I don't… if she didn't come. It would've been - bad. It would've been bad."

A long silence. The creak of leather when Nijimura leans back against the seats. "Well. I know a little something about that."

You close your eyes.

* * *

Nijimura drops the two of you off with a last warning look to you. "I'll have a contract drawn up by the morning. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. And Hana?"

You raise a hand unenthusiastically. God you're tired. Karou is just a little taller than you are. Makes for a good resting post. She shifts, body language screaming discomfort.

Ah, you miss Akashi. He never complained when you treated him like furniture.

Nijimura rolls his eyes. "Play nice."

"I'm always nice." You say.

"No. You're not."

No, you're not.

One last glance and he climbs back into the car and it rolls away smoothly in the to trafic. You watch until it disappears around the corner. Maybe part of you wants to go with it. Nijimura is easy to be around. He takes everything in stride. Probably why Akashi likes him so much.

With a sigh, you push off Karou and walk into the lobby. The staff straighten as you pass, and the desk workers bow low. Karou makes a low squeak but follows after you, so close you'd probably trip over her if you took a step back. You head into the elevator located in a small alcove behind the front desk and step inside. You hit the button. There's only one.

There's only one stop.

Penthouse suite.

Karou is quiet. Nigou pokes his head curiously out of your bag, and takes in the new scents. Does he remember being here? How far do dogs memories go?

"Uhm." Karous says.

YOu wait, but that's all she says. A glance over your shoulder finds her staring hard at the ground.

"... yeah. What." You're exhausted. You don't want to speak, you want to burrow into bed and not get up until god or Nijimura makes you.

She flinches and looks up. Meets your eyes. Flushes and looks back down at the white carpet on the elevator floor. "H-how do you want me to address you?"

You blink once, slowly. "Hana."

"That seems very… informal."

"As far as anyone else knows, you're my girlfriend." The door hissed open and you stepped out. "Besides. No one calls me by my last name."

She follows a step behind you, taking the expensive, but tasteful, hallway. "Why?"

"I have no idea." You unlock the door with a swipe of your card and a fingerprint scan. Need to get her added to security, you guess. You glance over your shoulder. "Go take a shower. There should be extra clothes in the hall closet. First bedroom on the left is mine."

Her hands go white on the strap of her bag. "You - you want to. Um. Already?"

You put Nigou's bag down and he hops out and begins to sniff the hallway curiously. "It's almost ten. I'm fucking exhausted. MIght as well."

Karou sets her shoulders after a long moment of quiet. "Right. Right. This is my job now, and I'm going to do my best." She bows formaly and makes her way to the bathroom, hair streaming behind her.

You raise an eyebrow. "Good… luck with that, I guess?"

She's already gone.

* * *

You listen to the shower run with your eyes closed, sprawled out on the bed. You got halfway through changing clothes before you just… shut down. Today was long - one of the longest days you've had since being alive.

You're drained. There's nothing left but a quiet cold and a desire to never touch another living thing again. You feel the soft cotton sheets against your skin, shirt off, bra half undone. Nigou is sniffing something in the other room. You hear the click of his claws on the kitchen tile.

…Bringing Karou back is the right decision. With another person in, the apartment doesn't feel so empty. Cold. It sends you spiraling back to middle school, back before Kise got onto the teiko team. The two of you, in a tiny bubble all of your own.

Kise came to the hospital.

That's the part that confuses you the most. People don't come back for you. Not really - not in this life or the last.

So why…

There's a tremulous feeling bubbling in your stomach, down in the very pit. You can't think about it directly without shaking hands, have to look at it sideways like trying to stare at the sun.

So you don't. You push it to the back of your mind, the way you do with everything you don't understand. Right here, right now, you exist.

The bathroom door opens, lets out a cloud of steam. You keep your eyes shut, listen to Karou pad across the carpet on nearly silent feet. Her shadow falls across you.

A creak of the bed. It dips under you.

You almost don't notice the brush of warmth across your lips.

Almost. You slowly open your eyes, mind utterly blank.

Karou is over you, wearing nothing at all. Her hair falls around you, still damp. Tiny scars litter her skin, proof of a life lived. Something sweet drifts through the air. Her eyes are dark, bottomless.

"I've never…" She shifts until she sits across your thighs and slowly presses a hand to your stomach, nails gently trailing, and you're abruptly aware of your own skin in a way you never have been before. "I've never been with anyone. So, please forgive me if it's not what you're expecting. I'm a quick study."

There's something electric and startled in the back of your mind; it can't quite figure out how you got here.

You sympathize. You have no idea how you got here either. Maybe it's the confusion that stills your body, lets her kiss you again, and again.

She pulls back and looks at you. The only light is warm yellow, spilling out of the bathroom's open door, and it paints her in a soft golden glow. It feels like your brain is slowly drowning in honey, too thick to swim. You're submerged in sweet yellow light. You feel… slow.

For once in your new life, your brain shuts down, shuts _up_. You're too confused to enjoy it.

She takes a deep breath, slides her hand up your body, and stops just under your exposed bra. Just under the band.

 _Ding dong._

Karou jumps, looks away. Your brain kickstarts.

The doorbell.

Nijimura? God you hope so. He might be able to understand what the fuck just happened.

Karou glances over her shoulder. "Should I…"

"I'll get it." You say, sitting up. She squeaks, all but topples off you. You're off the bed in record time, and out the door. You hesitate, look back over your shoulder.

She looks small and lost sitting in the middle of the large bed. Normally you'd leave without a second thought, but… you're the reason she looks like that. You have to take responsibility.

You detour to the closet, snag one of the robes there, and toss it to the bed. "Get dressed." You say. "We… have to talk about some stuff."

Nijimura might have more than a small point.

"A-alright?"

You close the bedroom door behind you with a quiet click. Then, and only then do you sag against it, head in hands. You feel like you're on fire. You feel like your heart suffered some kind of blow. You… don't know how to describe this feeling.

Your old body never did this. You had a few romances, but never anything with passion. Sex was nice, but not necessary for life. Neither was romance.

Should you blame your new body? It's already so much more that what you had, why not this too? Being a teenager again doesn't help at all. You're flushed. YOur face is hot. Burning, burning, heat in your stomach and lower still.

The doorbell rings again.

You lurch away up and make a beeline for the door, nearly vaulting over the couch. You throw it open. "Nijimura, you're not going to believe - you're not Nijimura."

Cream skin. Low cut top. Perfect makeup. Pink hair.

You stare. "Momoi?"

* * *

Momoi smiles and holds up a bag. "Sorry. I know it's late, but I just got a message from Kise thirty minutes ago." She glanced at your wrist. "I'm sorry I didn't notice your injury earlier, Hana-chan. I would have taken you straight to the hospital. I brought some food." She says. "God knows you don't eat enough when you're _not_ injured."

You stand by the open door, and you can't think of anything to say. Your brain is an overclocked computer. Too much input. Shutdown imminent. You stare at her, and maybe it's the pills wearing off, but you can feel a pressure bulding up in the back of your head. Kise called her? _Why?_

She steps past you into your home for the second time is as many days You step aside without thinking about it.

She frowns and steps forward, presses one cool hand into your forehead. "You're all red, Hana. Are you sick? Also," She glances down at your clothes – or your lack of them, and then back up very quickly, a little red herself. "You shouldn't answer the door in only your underwear. I couldn't say what would happen to you if I was someone with bad intentions. Anyway -" She contiues past you and you drift after her like a leaf caught in the wake a some titanic ship.

"Kise also said something about you growing up? He _was_ crying, so it was hard to understand, but I have to admit it's sort of a bad joke to tell." She snorts and drops a bag on the couch. Nigou wanders up and gives a happy bark at the sight of her. "Hello, puppy. You're just the cutest little thing? Tiny Tetsu-kun. You're keeping him? Anyway, like I was saying, there's no way you have a _girlfriend_ -"

Like Karou was summoned, she appears out of the bedroom. "Hana?"

Momoi stops dead. The other bag slips from her hand and clatters to the floor. Various convenice store foods, simple and esy to eat with one hand, spill across the floor.

You rub your forehead. God, you just want to _sleep_. Is that too much to ask? "Karou, this is Momoi. A friend from middle school. Momoi this Karou. My girlfriend."

Karou smiles, and it lights up her whole face. "It's nice to meet you, Momoi-san."

Momoi continues to stare

Karou's smile slowly fades and she looks at you. "Is she… okay?"

You shake your head the tiniest bit, than you step forward and wave your hand in front of Momoi's face. "Momoi? You okay?"

"G-girlfriend?" Momoi whirled to look at you. "But - you're not gay!"

You raise an eyebrow. Momoi didn't have any problems with gay people that you know of. She hung out with Kise pretty often after all. Unless it's because you could be attracted to her personally?

"I mean, you never dated anyone but guys as far as I know." And knowing was Momoi's specialty. That made more sense. Of course she'll be upset over a gap in her info network. "Only Akashi and Kise! You got confessions from girls in middle school but you always turned them down, even that one girl from the newspaper club down!"

Think about heat and a sweet scent, an awareness of your own skin. You shrug. "It's news to me too." You pause. "Didn't know you heard about me being asked out." She didn't normally keep track of anything non-basketball related. The confession you got from Shimada was the first, but it wasn't the last.

Momoi freezes again. "I… it was…"

Karou steps forward, puts an arm around your waist. She has a couple inches on you and you can still feel the heat of her skin through the robe. "You were pretty popular in school, Hana? Careful, I might get jealous."

You roll your eyes, but allow it. "They were just kids. They loved the idea of me, but every single one of them took off after five minutes with me." You're not a nice person, and you don't have time to coddle some brat's crush. You're rich and talented and pretty good looking. Of course you go confessions. You look at Momoi again. "Yeah. I got confessions, but there wasn't really anyone I was interested in. Akashi and me was more of a friends with benefits thing." Akashi got a shield, and you got something to do for a while. You shrug. "I'm probably bi."

"Oh. I… have to go." Momoi took a step - and stumbled over the bag on the floor.

You move, catch her on pure reflex. "Careful." You say.

Momoi shifts, and her hand finds the bare skin above your bra. Your left hand is on her shoulder, your right holding her wrist loosely. She jerks back as if burned. "I have to go!" She says again, a rush of words. "Nice to meet you Karou-san, bye Hana, feel better soon!"

With that she performs a fade away worthy of Aomine on the court, and she's gone before you can get a word out.

You stare at the closed front door. "...Bye?"

Karou glances at you, than at the door. "A friend, huh?"

Shake your head, blink at her. "Yeah. A good one."

Karou meets your eyes, gaze unreadable. It's like being peeled open layer by layer, until she smiles and shakes her head. "Well. For now I have a job to do. Shall we continue?"

A flush of heat. You take a deep breath, push Momoi's behavior into the deal with later (or possibly never) pile. "About that."

You have some clarification to do.

* * *

 **this was a fun chapter to write. Hana gets hit by hormones for possibly the first time ever, nijimura despairs, Karou is secretly the main character of a shoujou manga, and momoi is very taken aback.**

 **I found Hana's theme song: downhill by lincoln. every damn verse just fits hana so much like:** _ **I was born into the world on a silken cloud/** **And I got bored of the world before I hit the ground**_ **and _you're the one who taught me to be brave/_** _ **I've never spent a moment loving anyone but you/** **And maybe that's just something that people say/ But I hope that you know it's the truth**_ **referring** **to kise**

 **question: if hana had to pilot a mech, pacific rim style, who (besides kise) would be her co-pilot?**

* * *

 **NEXT GAME: possible interlude? idk haven't decided who yet**


	22. XXII

You wake with a head light as a feather. It takes you moment to place the feeling, not so much pain as an absence of pain. Your head doesn't hurt; the low grade ache is gone.

The scent of something drifts from the kitchen. You don't move, but your mouth scrunches up. Your stomach actually doesn't turn over at the thought of food. Who knew being well rested was the secret to not feeling like you're dying?

You live alone. So who...

Ah. Fake girlfriend. Karou or something.

You turn and glance at the clock. Nine am. You're late for school, but that's a distant concern. You just got done sleeping for a full eight hours.

Plan scusess?

The click of claws on the floor distracts you. A thump as Nigou jumps up onto the bed. You watch him sniff your hand and then give it a happy lick. You scratch his ears. He barks once, tail wagging.

Time to get up. For once it's not crippling lack of fucks to give that makes you want to get up, but the fact that you're... content. Content to just exist right now. It's hard to think of the last time you felt like this. Maybe you never have.

You sit up eventually, because you have to do it. Have to go to practice and school, and there's breakfast waiting. You pick Nigou up and carry him into the kitchen with your good hand.

Karou is prettier in the light of the sun. The large windows overlooking the city give off enough natural light that she hasn't bothered to turn the electric ones on and it makes her glow, gives her dark hair a halo of shine that makes your hands itch.

You wish you had your camera.

Karou turns and smiles at you. "Good morning, Hana-chan. I made some breakfast. You're late for school though. Will you have time for breakfast?"

You blink once, slow. You can't remember the last time someone was happy to see you. Bizarre. Even Kagami always seems kind of annoyed with you. "I don't care about school." You say with a miniscule shrug.

"That's not good, Hana-chan. YOu have to get a good education if you want to get anywhere in life. I wish I completed high school." She turns the stove off with a click, picks up the last of the food and puts it down on the table. Karou relaxed a lot more when you outlined clearly what you wanted her to do. Which was basically sleep in the same bed for at least five days out of the week, carry and administer your pills, and take care of Nigou until your wrist is better.

You follow her lead and sit down. Feels weird to be having breakfast instead of just rolling out the door whenever you scrape up the will.

"You didn't finish high school?" You ask.

She smiles, but it seems wistful. "My dad wasn't... the best. I had to drop out and start working after the first year. It was fun while it lasted though. I like learning about new things."

"Huh." You take a bit of the food - and it's good. Karou is a good cook.

The two of you eat in silence. It's not a bad one, and you're glad that you picked someone who doesn't have to speak everything they think out loud.

After you finish you look at her. "Do you want to finish school?"

She blinks. "I- well. If I could, I would. One of my regrets is not finishing, but it's kind of late for that now."

You nod. "Alright."

"Alright what?"

"I'll set it up." you say.

She stares at you with wide eyes, clutching an washed dish to her chest like a shield. "What?"

But you're no longer paying attention to her. You flip out your phone and send a quick text to Nijimura, because he runs your life apparently. He'll set it up.

"Nijimura should call with the details in a few hours." You say. You look up to find her staring at you with wide eyes.

"Won't that... interfere with my job for you?" She says.

You shrug. You're just a job to her. She can have a life outside you. "Not really? You can do whatever you want during the day." Ah. Speaking of, you send off another text to Nijimura about having a card set up for Karou. She needs to get some things for her wardrobe. Can't have her wearing rags around your apartment.

The clock ticks closer to nine-thirty. You sigh. Probably should go back to school. You scarf down the food, pet Nigou, and head back to your room to change into your uniform. You leave Karou standing in that pool of light in the kitchen, mouth still opening and closing.

* * *

You arrive to in the middle of your fourth class. The teacher gives you are hard stare. You meet his eyes until he looks away. You snort and take your seat, ignoring the wave of whispers that follows you, the eyes on your cast. Your skin is thick enough to withstand pretty much anything these kids throw at you.

What sort of rumor will be floating around by the end of the day?

There are two gazes that are harder to ignore. Kagami and Kuroko's eyes burn into the back of your neck. You manage them by ignoring their existence. If they have a problem they can talk to you.

It lasts until lunch time.

Kagami drags his chair over to your desk with a scrape. "So. It's going to take you three weeks to heal?" He looks at your wrist.

You roll your eyes and prop your bag up on the desk, between you all of his stupid food.

"Kagami-kun is correct." Kuroko says. You take a petty solace in the way Kagami almost drops his food in surprise. Hah. Serves him right.

A flash of color in your bag takes you by surprise. Another attempt at putting rotten food in it? No, you haven't even put your bag down today and there was nothing in it this morning. You open it up.

An box innocent wrapped in dark pink cloth.

You narrow your eyes at it. What the hell?

Kagami leans over to look in your bag. "Wow. This is the first time i've seen you bring a lunch to school hana. What gives?"

A lunch? Cautious, you take it out and unwrap it. You open the box and blink. The smell actually makes your stomach twist in hunger. You can't remember the last time you wanted to east something. Another, stranger attempt at catching your attention? You still have no idea who has access to your bag.

Kagami whistles. "Did you make that Hana?"

"No." You say.

"Your mom or dad?" Kagami leans forward. "Hey, let me have a taste."

"No." You stab your chopsticks into the desk just milimeeters from his Kagami's thieving hands. "And also no. Eat your own food."

"Kagami-kun is a glutton." Kuroko notes.

"Shameless." You say.

"Aw, comon. Why is it you guys only team up when you're picking on me?" Kagami whines.

"I have no idea what Kagami-kun is talking about. Mashiro-san and I always get along."

Even you look at Kuroko sideways at that massive lie. He takes a placid sib of his juice box.

"Riiiight." Kagami shakes his head. "Whatever, who made your lunch? You didn't buy it anywhere."

Karou.

She must have put a lunch in your bag before you left. You don't… know how to feel about this. There's nothing in her job description that says she has to feed you.

"Girlfriend." YOu say.

Kuroko drops his juice. The straw pops out and juice sprays all over Kagami. He stares at you with wide eyes.

"What the fuck kuroko?" Kagami demands. "What the hell - wait. Girlfriend? As in - dating?"

You break apart the chopsticks and take a bite of the rolled eggs.

Petty good.

* * *

You can't do much at practice, but Aida never lets up. Drill after drill, mile after mile, you lose yourself in the rhythm of time passing. You eat and sleep better than you ever have before. The team shifts around you. Kagami keeps improving.

You watch him make another basket against the third years and know it's not enough. You glance down at your cast. The wrist no longer hurts. Maybe it's because your body heals like it does everything else: perfectly. Better than everyone else could be, or hope to be.

maybe it's because you're sleeping regularly for the first time in... ever. You can't remember the last time you didn't wake up with a slow poison of your own heart in your ears, the desperate wish for silence under your tongue, a hollow pit under your breast bone. You feels steady.

How long will it last? Nothing good ever does. You're busy waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Three weeks and it does. The semi finals arrives and with it, the match against Aomine.

Kuroko materialized by your side, a quiet shadow while the two of you watch Kagami make basket after basket, trying and failing to burn off his nervous energy.

"Kagami-kun is dedicated." Kuroko says after a while.

You shrug. Dedication doesn't matter. He's not... enough. Kagami works until he's shaking and exhausted, pushes himself harder than anyone on the team, even Kuroko, and he's still...

Aomine is better than him. It's just fact.

You compare the two of them in your head and nothing Kagami does makes an impact.

You and Kuroko watch and neither of you mention the cast still on your wrist. Aomine isn't' the type of player you can take with a handicap like that.

Coach might not even let you play. The doctor said three months after all.

You don't... want to play. Aomine is a fire on the court. He's a black hole, sucks people in, crushes them in his orbit, and you still dream about the matches you watched in teikou, the first time he truly began to shine. A catalyst for the rest of the Generation.

You could've been one of them. Thing was, there was a reason beyond basketball you refused to play Aomine at all.

This body doesn't have many limits. You cling to the ones you do have like the last steady thing in the middle of the world crumbling around you. If you forget your limits, or go beyond them, you understand there wouldn't be any coming back down. No reset button, no refresh. Push your body to the limits it craves and you'd stop having limits at all. Infinite potential. Maybe you'd stop being human.

Except deep down inside you, you know there's only so much of you. Everyday chips you down the tiniest bit more. You could run a marathon, swim to america, fight endlessly and still not be exhausted. Physically, anyway.

You only have a few limits and one of them is will. Unlike other people, you only have so much of it.

Facing Aomine will be different. You could blow through enough willpower for three years in one single half hour.

You think about the way you flexed your wrist with barely a twinge this morning. Think about telling Kuroko that you can play.

Keep your mouth shut.

Selfishness.

* * *

The morning of the tournament looks down on a Seirin buzzing with energy. The upperclassmen are talking in hushed tones. The freshmen have caught on to some of their nerves and started fidgeting.

Kagami has bags under his eyes again.

Kuroko is much the same.

It feels strange to look at them and know you were the one who slept the easiest.

Kagami tapps his fingers nervously on his thigh. He stares up at the stadium. "Tell me about Aomine again."

"Kagami-kun, there's nothing new I can tell you." Kuroko says. He's pale, even by normal standards. "Aomine is the ace of the Generation of miracles. The first and best of us."

You tune them out in favour of feeling the vibrations the bus sends through your bones. The world outside is a blur of color.

Kagami catches your attention.

"What?" You ask.

"I know what Kuroko thinks, but what about you? You never said anything." Kagami's fingers tap faster. "Do you think you can beat this guy?"

"I'm not playing."

"Humor me." Kagami says.

"Yeah, are like, possessed or something?" Kagami asks. "Do you have a fever? Are you even human enough to get sick?"

Hyuuga smirks. "So even you have things you aren't confident about huh?"

You roll your eyes. Yes, you're human. Such shock. Much awe. "You asked."

"I thought you'd just say of course like normal!" Kagami snaps. He looks sicker than ever.

Why do you even bother?

A hand came out of nowhere and knocks him on the head. "Quit fretting," Aida commands. "We'll have to take it as it comes."

The first challenge doesn't come on the court - but from the first step into the stadium. Thousands of people have come to see them, but it's deadly quiet. Eearrie.

It's the sense of pressure radiating from the other team. There, sitting on the opposite bench is Aomine, arms on knees, chin in hands. He looks like some ancient king waiting for The kid you can never remember the name of shrinks under the weight of Aomine's regard. He falls behind you, face pale and hands shaking. You meet Aomine's eyes.

Blue and sharp, and you want to reach out and take the fire in them for your own. Envy coats your throat. How can he burn without running out of self?

(Kuroko is the same. Kagami. The rest of Seirin. They want so much.

It must be exhausting. You're drained just looking at them.

It's just a game.)

You sigh and look over at the coach. Let the

Aida's mouth is pursed. She shakes her head. "Looks like they're taking this seriously."

You shift. A flash of pink among the white uniforms.

Momoi.

You haven't spoken to her in three weeks. You don't know - for a heart beat all you can think of is the quiet look of shock on her face just before she leaves your apartment. Your rub your chest, just above your heart, with a frown.

Then she looks up and time goes strange again. She doesn't see you. You watch her turn back to the boy at her side, older, dark hair, glasses. She says something and he tilts his head down to look at her. She smiles.

Pain.

You blink and glance down to find your hands clenched, sending a twinge of pain through your broken wrist. Guess it's not fully healed yet. Glance up again to find Momoi nowhere in sight. You don't have time to be dissapointed.

"Hana-chan?" A soft touch on your shoulder.

You flinch.

Momoi stares at you and you stare back.

"Sorry." You say after the silence stretches out. Your heart is too loud inside your head. This might be the first time you've been startled by anyone. It's hard to sneak up on you - too much time spent paying attention to the world around you through a lense, to much time watching your own back. Are you losing your touch after so long away from a camera?

Immediately you cast out your senses for Kuroko.

There. Standing in the midst of the team, behind Kagami is a glimpse of ice blue. Something inside you relaxes. Good.

If it's not you losing your touch, then why can Momoi sneak up on you?

At last, Momoi smiles. "I just wanted to apologise for running off like that last time. I was a little shocked." She wrapped her arm around yours like you were some sort of victorian gentleman.

Shocked about what? You tilt your head, but decide against asking. Momoi wasn't exactly shy. if she wants you to know, she'll tell you. "It's fine."

"How is Karou?" She asks, and you can feel her nails on your skin. Not a threat, just an … awareness. "I don't want her to think badly of me. I was rude and didn't even stay to say goodbye."

You shrug. "She was a little... weird after."

"Weird how?"

"I dunno. She kept looking at me funny."

Momoi sighs. "Hana-chan, of course she did. No one wants someone not related to them calling on their girlfriend or boyfriend that late at night. Especially if they're younger or better looking or have a superior body. Jealousy can be an ugly thing." She gestures down to herself in a way that seems to convey 'look how amazing my body is in comparison to hers'.

You glance down at Momoi's body. Then you shake your head like clearing water from it. "I don't think that's what it was." You say. It's not like Karou is in love with you. Maybe she's worried about being out of a job or something. Being kicked out like that would be distressing.

Momoi smile has a satisfied edge when she leans in, pressing her chest against your arm, getting close enough to nearly whisper in your ear. "Well, I don't know her that well. You'd understand her better, Hana-chan."

You tilt her head towards her, almost against your will. The smell of her shampo fills the space between you. You don't know what to say, and Momoi seems content to just hang from your arm.

The sense of pressure increases. You don't look over at the other side of the court, but Momoi sighs in you ear.

"He's been like that all week. Looking forward to this." She touches the wrist you broke gently. "Will you be...?"

Aomine's problems are Aomine's problems. Nothing to do with you. "Fishing for information already?"

Momoi drops the wide eyed concern and huffs at you. She doesn't let go of your arm. "Well, you can't blame me for trying. I also do want to know if you're going to be okay Hana. Not everything is about basketball."

Not everything, but you're on Seirin and she's on Teikou and that means she's not going to go easy on you. How many strategies has she developed depending on weather or not you can play? Even Akashi knew Momoi was the best at strategizing and information gathering. She's just as obese with basketball as Aomine; she's just better at hiding it.

You shake your head, more amused than anything. "No mercy, Momoi?"

She laughs. "OF course not. I am the best after all - and that means no mercy for anyone on the opposite side.

"Well now, who's your friend Momoi-chan?" The tall, older boy with glasses lopes across the court. His mouth is pulled into a smile you instinctively dislike. Something about feels smooth as glass, and a million times more opaque. He give you a jaunty little wave. "Heya."

You raise a hand. "Yo."

Momoi glances at the clock above the court. "I'm sorry Imayoshi-sempai. I didn't realize we were starting so soon. I'll go and get everything ready." She turns to you, still holding your arm. "Hana-chan, you know I won't go easy on you right?"

You roll your eyes. "Like I ever expected it."

She smiles. "That's why you're my favorite." She brushes the hair out of her eyes with a flick of her slender wrist and swans off into the mess of boys. They part around her like a school of fish around a dolphin.

You feel the eyes of the captain on you. Of course you know who he is. You've never met him, but you've met a thousand like him. You know what a schemer looks like: someone used to being the smartest person in the room. A manipulator. Someone who likes to wind people up just to see what they'll do. You meet his eyes without looking away, without flinching. Look through him like he's made of glass. People like him are easy to deal with when you want nothing at all.

He smiles again, and it's doesn't seem fake. "You know, you remind me of a kouhai I once had. He had Hana in his name too. Funny world, huh?"

You cross your arms and lean back. Stare up at the ceiling. You look back down. "I don't care." You say at last.

Imayoshi snickers. "Of course, of course. Just take it as the babbling of an old man. Can I call you Hana-chan, Hana-chan?" He doesn't wait for an answer, just reaches out and pats your shoulder in friendly way. "Aomine is pretty excited about this, huh? Don't disappoint him, Hana-chan. He gets all sulky and unmanageable. It upsets our best manager."

"You're pretty annoying." You say. You shift, knock his hand off your shoulder.

He laughs again. "I get that a lot. See you out there, Hana-chan."

You watch him walk away. A hint of ice blue out of the corner of his eye.

"...Was he flirting with me?" You ask. The perpetual smile made it kinda difficult to tell. You are not the best with emotions.

"I'm sure I don't know." Kuroko says. "It's not important. We have bigger things to worry about."

You sigh.

Across the court Aomine burns.

* * *

 **so uh i was crossing the street on Wednesday morning, and i kinda got hit by a car. i'm fine (nothing serious, just some bruises and bumps, i'm pretty sturdy) but if this chapter is terrible you can blame it on that. I'm kinda out of it.**

 **tell me what you liked about this chapter**


	23. XXIII

You see the moment Aomine realizes that you're not going on the court. The air grows thinner under the force of his rage, the referee falters, the teams hesitate. Kuroko is the only one who doesn't flinch.

But then, its not the first time he's dealt with Aomine like this. He's been at Aomine's side the whole time. He witnessed the whole break down from up close.

You tilt your head back against the bench and ignore Aomine's attention. Under it is a strange feeling of being stretched. Like a part of you is far away and the rest of you is here, in the middle of the court. Like you can't move forward or backward without a part of you snapping. Leaving something behind.

It might hurt.

You're almost tempted to go out just for that.

You look up and make eye contact with Aomine. His eyes are the same old blue, but you've never seen them so sharp.

His shoulders move up and down in a shrug and he glances at Kagami with dark intent.

Ah.

You follow his thoughts like a brightly lit path in the dark. He's never been hard to read, Aomine.

If he can't have you, he'll force your coaches hand. Another temper tantrum.

Aida lets out a deep sigh. "Alright. It's time to see what were' made of."

THe other freshmen exchange nervous but determined looks out of the corner on your eyes.

You say nothing.

The team's already lost.

THere's no way Kagami will beat him, and he's the only one on the team close to your level, close to _Aomine's_ level.

You stretch out with a sigh. Lets see how long Aida lasts before she puts you in, injury or not.

(You're not going to volunteer. It's just a game and you don't have enough left in you to care.)

The toss up. Aomine and Kagami stading the middle of the court, eyes on each other, a rising tension in the stadium.

Serin is ready, wating.

Touou doesn't watch the ball.

They watch Aomine.

It's so familiar you almost feel the fabric of the teiko uniform around your legs, the solid warmth of Akashi at your side.

("Look." He said, pointing at the small forward on the other side. "He's the weakest link."

You make a disinterested noise, fiddling with the scope on your camera. You don't know why he's up here in the stands with you and not playing with the team, but you're not complaining. He at least is another distraction from how bored you are.

Kise's first time as the control tower should've been more interesting but you've been... drifting more and more lately.

There's a growing pit in your stomach that expands outward. When it swallows all of you, maybe you'll disappear.

Akashi isn't put off by your disinterest. He smiled. "You always want to go for the weakest link, Hana. A clean victory is always better than an honorable one."

How very Akashi of him.

You snorted. "Don't worry. I'm never in any danger of playing fair."

His smile grew. "I never doubted that. That's why we get along so well, I suppose.")

You shake your head, pushing red and the trace of melancholy away. Akashi is what he is now. There's not really any point in dwelling.

You do miss him sometimes.

More than Aomine, more that even Kise, you understood him the best. The unyielding pressure to be the best, to carry everything on his shoulders. The terrible grip of talent. People look at you and they expect the world.

Guess that's what being an ace means. Your teammates do the same thing on the court around you. You feel tired just looking at the faith in their faces.

How does Aomine not get exhausted carrying that sort of expectation around?

Kagami says something, too quiet to hear over the shift of the crowd - and Aomine laughs. It's not friendly.

"I'm the only one who can beat me." Aomine says. Teeth bared.

The whistle blows. The ball is tossed.

"Here we go." Aida says.

You fold over the bench, using one of the freshmen as a pillow. The timid freshman squeaks but you ignore him. You got more sleep than normal lately, but… you're still tired.

It's a bone deep thing, something that goes beyond the physical.

He shifts forward. You frown. He squeaks again, and stills.

Coach ignores all of you, focusing on the game. You can feel her intense concentration even with eyes closed.

The tension in the crowd can he felt the rising amount of murmurs. Under the crowd you hear the shift of Kagami's sneakers.

A squeak, and you see him leaning forward and you're my guy mind's eye. You know the way his hands flex, the way his eyes shine. Under the nerves, under the sleeplessness, Kagami was made for the moment just before the game starts.

Kagami was made for moments like this.

Must be exhausting, you think.

Coach leans forward and the bench shifts with her.

A whistle.

A shift. Feet leaving the ground.

Kagami jumps.

Aomine jumps.

You don't open your eyes, but you already know how this goes.

It only takes a second.

Coach startles and the bench shifts. She's like a rudder for the ship of seirin. Whatever she feels the rest of you, on purpose or not, always follow.

From the way she reacts, you know what the outcome is.

Aomine has the ball.

Hyuuga shouts, surprised, and you can see Aomine brushing past him without opening your eyes. It's familiar. At Teikou he was the catylyst, the match that set the other first string on fire. He burns the brightest. He burnt the fastest.

He was a streak of heat. Can't catch him. Can barely see him.

Would you be able to catch him?

The sound of a net. The crowd goes wild.

First point Touo.

You sigh. This is going to be a long game.

* * *

You're right. It's the same amount of time the whole way, but it feels like taffy being stretched out, like a rubber band pulled to tis' breaking point. You don't move from the bench, don't look up, just stay motionless.

By the end of the first half, Touo's score is in the double digits.

Kagami does his best, but Seirin is nearly twenty point behind and Kuroko's misdirection is starting to fade.

You're not surprised.

kagami comes off the court with a grim set to his mouth. He's frustrated. Nothing he does comes close to dealing with Aomine.

You frown. Something's... off.

Kagami's doing bad, sure, but you don't think that he was... quite this behind in the manga. A fuzzy memory, a littleral lifetime away is all you have to go off. There is a difference - and you know why that is.

kagami struggled against the generation of miracles. He tasted desperation, and sharpened like a blade against a whetstone.

With you there, why would he need to struggle?

Your mouth pulls down. Kagami never hurt you.

You don't like owing people, and this feels like a debt.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. he was difficult to deal with.

A long shadow falls over the bench and a ripple of quiet spreads out over the team. The freshman you're using as a pillow goes stiff as a board, petrified.

You sigh. Yeah, you were expecting it much earlier.

Maybe Aomine _has_ matured a little.

"I didn't think you were a coward, Hana." There's a jeer in his voice.

You turn your head an open your eyes. He's barely broken a sweat. His face is twisted into a scowl.

Why keep playing if all it does is make him angry?

You swing your leg over the bench, sit up and shrug one shoulder. "Well you know. That's me. Just a ball of nerves."

Kagami snorts. "Yeah, okay."

Silence.

"How does it feel, to be at the top?" You ask. Mild curiosity.

Aomine doesn't look like he's having fun.

He looks down at the ball tucked under his arm. "Fucking boring."

Yeah. You know.

"You're not playing." And just like that, Aomine becomes serious. There's a crease between his eyes and you know how much this has been bothering him. "Why won't you just... one game. It's _fun_. Why don't you ever want to play with me? Against me?"

The question is quiet.

You feel a heavy gaze on the back of your neck. You ignore it. Kuroko could go to hell. A heavy surge of something hot in your stomach.

You push yourself off the bench in one smooth movement. You don't owe him an explanation - you don't know if you even have the words. There's a part of you that echos with the world around you - Aomine puts so much of himself into this stupid game that you can't echo it back at him. If you put a fraction of yourself into it that he did, you'd have nothing left.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, there's a little jar full of the stuff that makes people tick. Maybe in other people it's a hourglass, something self contained, with the ability to flip itself over and reset.

In you, there's a crack running down the side, and everything that leaks out is lost. It feels like there's no reset button for you. No hourglass. No beginning again.

Everything you lose, you lose for real.

He doesn't know that. Kuroko doesn't know that. They don't understand.

Maybe no one does.

(You hope so.

You wouldn't wish this existence on anyone.)

You're still angry, and furious about that, because you know you're spreading a part of yourself on this moment you can't take back. Bitter because the anger feels hollow. Pointless.

"Why should I?" You ask.

Aomine blinks. "What?"

"Why the fuck," and your voice sounds far away, cold to your own ears. "Should I do that? "

It's like something inside you snaps.

Aomine flinches back from you.

Kuroko does too.

"Hana?" Kagami asks.

You take a deep breath. Hold it in, don't bother to hold onto the anger even if it's the strongest thing you've felt in... months. Years, maybe.

(That's a lie.

You remember the times when you've been awake for four days in a row and laying down on the kitchen floor for three of them, the utter surety that nothing you touch is real, that you've just dreamed up the world around you, that you're still in the dark. Still drifting. Maybe you're the only real person in the world. So desperately hungry for people that you've taken characters from some old story and breathed life into them.

Fear tastes sour at the back of your throat. Like old orange juice. Like being the second choice. What does it say about you, that if this is a dream that you're _still_ alone?

It'd be so much easier to just... let go. Pick up something sharp and finally know. Are you dreaming? Is the world real?

Are you real?

Not knowing is the worst part.)

Aomine's scowl falters for a few seconds. "I... we were friends." His face takes on a mulish look. "No matter how much of an asshole you were, I considered us friends."

You're still. It akes a few moments for your brain to catch up to your ears.

Friends.

When were you ever friends? Why would he say that now? Wasn't he the one who ended that possibility?

You look at Kagami, and Kuroko standing behind him. Back to Aomine.

Just a bunch of kids. Inhale. Exhale.

You shake your head. "I'm going to get a drink."

* * *

You leave them there without a second word, and go out of the room. Too many people , too much - everything.

The world feels soft at the edges. You keep your eyes forward, ignore the way it makes the world blur. People become indistinct blurs. Your head hurts. Your ears ring. Your heart seems to have relocated from your chest to the pit of your throat and you can't swallow it down.

You go until the noise of the stadium becomes more bearable, less like a grater against your skin, and more like a cloth against your head. There's a vending machine tucked away in a small corner, out of eyeshot. You head there, grab a handful of coins and feed them into the machine without looking. You press a button randomly.

It's not that you're hungry. Karou made breakfast again this morning and a bento to boot. You don't have any appetite. The stuff you ate this morning is still enough to make you want to throw up.

You just need something to do with your hands. You pop the tab and stare at the can like you have no idea what to do with it. Lean against the wall, close your eyes. You're tired. Everything is so much effort. That burst of anger left you feeling like a ravine of a person: nothing much inside at all.

It's worse than being numb. At least then, you know you have the promise of the feeling returning eventually.

Emptiness is just that: Empty.

Maybe you've used up all the anger for the rest of your life.

God, you didn't miss being a teenager. Everything is so much sharper and up close when the hormones in your head are out of control. You can't take that much color and noise. You wish you were still five years old, before the world really mattered. Before Kise mattered.

Kid's got into trouble all the time. It would've been easy to… just _stop_ back then. Kids got into trouble all the time.

Do you regret it?

Cold condensation slides down from the can of soda, down your wrist. You tilt your heads. "Were we... friends?" You ask out loud, talking to yourself. You got the impression that most of the Generation tolerated you because of Kise. Certainly none of them _liked_ you and Kuroko and Murasakibara actively loathed you.

Were you friends? Would it have made a difference?

Does it matter?

You can't change the past.

You try to live in the moment - as much as someone like you can.

Plans for the future?

Unnecessary.

You refuse to live with regrets. Refuse to reflect, to treat the past as something real. You don't have time for that.

You slump onto a bench by the vending machine, taking up the whole thing with your sprawl. The plastic squeaks.

The sound of people is far away, and you unfocus your eyes, enter that fuzzy state where nothing touches you.

Sneakers on tile.

You tilt your head slightly. Green.

"...Midorima." You say, voice detached. It should be a question, but your voice stays flat. You feel flat. More grey than normal, even.

Midorima hovers over you like an awkward tree. He's dressed casual and uncomfortable with it, a pair of ridiculous glasses on his face. He jerks back. "How did you know it was me?"

Was he hiding it?

"You have green hair."

"That's what I told him." You glance behind him, to Takao. He's dressed casually too, and carrying a pair of drinks. Much more comfortable with it, he rolls his eyes, his own pair of sunglasses half way to falling off. "A pair of sunglasses is not a disguise, no matter how dashing they look. At least wear a hat or something, Shin-chan."

Midorima sniffed. "I don't have any hats, as I've told you." He pauses. "What do you mean by dashing?"

Takao grins. "You look like something out of a spy thriller Shin-chan. A very dashing spy; One who's not very good at his job, sure, but trying very hard."

"You- " Midorima's scowl almost outshone the red tint to his ears.

You watch the two of them devolve into a squabble, completely forgetting about you. It's loud, but not the kind of loud that grates. Just like hearing a pair of children laugh together. Almost calming. Like you could close your eyes and be sitting in the classroom, listening to Kagami and Kuroko talk.

You blink at that thought. When did that become relaxing for you?

It has a calm certainty to it, like you know what they will do, what they want. Both Kagami and Kuroko are the same type of people: single minded. Kuroko just hides it better than Kagami. He has just as much time in the court than Kagami.

"Why are you here?" You ask, push the through to the back of your mind.

The two boys froze in the middle of their fight and their heads wip around to look at you. Like you thought, they completely forgot you existed.

Midorima clears his throat and stands straighter. He looks very uncomfortable. "We parted last time on poor terms, and this is the only time we thought to find you without intruding at your school. I do not have your phone number so I can only -"

Takao rolls his eyes. "What Shin-chan means to say is that we're here to apologize for being dicks."

You stare.

The moment stretches out, and Takao's smile falters. Midorima seems to shrink into himself, looking smaller than you've ever seen him.

You open your mouth and then close it.

Apologize?

You cast your memory back, try to remember the last time anyone apologized to you for… anything, really. Nijimura, that day on the roof but that doesn't count. He's one of the weird people who can stand you.

"Why?" You ask, when the moment goes on for too long. That's the first question that comes to your mind.

Midorima pulls himself up. "The upperclassmen have been very unhappy with us."

Ah. You nod, because of course it's because the two of the are being forced. Everything is right with the world again.

It doesn't last. Takao kicks the ground from you again.

"What Shin-chan means to say is that we felt bad." Takao whispers, sotto voice. "He wanted to ask if we can please be friends again, Hana-chan?"

"Shut up Takao!" Midorima snapps, his ears the color of Akashi's hair.

"Shin-chan is really dishonest." He nudged Midnorim with his shoulder, a fond look on his face. Than he looks at you. "We came to apologize because we were dicks. Just because you won doesn't' make it right for use to take our frustration out on you. Right, Shin-chan?"

Midorima shifts away from him and glances at your face out of the corner of his eyes. Whatever he sees makes him stare down at his feet very hard. He takes a deep breath. "That is correct. I am… sorry. If you did not go all out in the match, that can only be attributed to my failure to make you do so. If I was more skilled, there would've been no question."

Takao nods. "We lost anyway, so it's like why would you even bother?"

"So." Midorima grimaces. "I wished to apologize. I should not have spoken like that to a friend. Even one as annoying as you can be."

"Shin-chan, you were doing so well." Takao complained. "Don't insult people you're apologizing to, it's -"

"Friends?" You blurt out without thinking. "We're not friends."

Midorima flinches.

Takao head whips around to stare at you.

You shrug. "We're not. Do you even like me, like as a person?"

He's never shown any sign of it. He treats you like a particularly annoying dog most of the time. Avoided you in school like you were carrying the plague, unless you were around Akashi.

Midormia flushes. "What?"

You raise the can above your head and watch the condensation drip. "I don't blame you. Most people don't."

Talent and a shitty personality do that. Unwilling to compromise. Unwilling to change.

"...Wow." Takao says. "You're kinda messed up, huh?"

You look at him out of the corner of your eye, a faint smile on your face. You don't have anything to say. Not like he's wrong.

"I do."

You stop. Look at Midorima. The tip of his ears are red again, but his gaze is unwavering. He shifts from one foot to the other.

"I would not associate with you if I did not - not find your company at least a bit agreeable." He huffs. "You do not think that the rest of the Generation felt the same? You were one of us."

You breath out. Every word out of his mouth is a stone piled on top of you because it feels like the truth. Like something you already know. Can you deny that a part of you feels the same? The part of you that you ignore because you didn't want to add to the number of people who'd miss you, when you ran out of reasons to keep going.

You can feel and end coming.

Why couldn't the generation be so like the rest of the world and resent you? Why care about you at all? it wasn't your sterling personality, or your people skills.

And yet…

Think about aomine. Think about Momoi, biting her lip, worried. Midorima's not lying. You feels something in her just - give in. Sigh. Close your eyes.

When you open them, your decision is already made. You push yourself up, and feel almost calm.

Friends, huh?

"Where are you going?" Midorima asks.

You crush the can in one hand, toss it over your shoulder. It hits the rim of the garbage can with a clang and drops in. "I have a game to play, Shin-chan."

* * *

 **hey i'm back. there will be two chapters this week to make up for missing the last update.**

 **i was just very unmotivated and dealing with assholes spamming my comments with weird links. Super annoying but i fixed it in the end. this chapter was a bitch and a half to write. make me feel better and tell me what you liked about it.**


	24. XXVI: Interlude Three: Blue

It's the anticipation that makes this moment sting so much. Aomine stares down at his feet, the pristeen sneakers on them. Good money he could have spent on the lovely Mai-chan, wasted.

Someone settles at his side. Aomine glances up, ready to snap. He doesn't want to speak to anyone. He feels like he's walking on asphalt on the hottest day of summer with bare feet. Like he'll scald whoever bugs him next. This day has been nothing but a disappointment.

Momoi tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "We're winning." She says. "Smile, Dai-chan."

He bares his teeth at her. "Fuck off, Satsuki."

She elbows him in the side. "Don't you bitch at me, Dai-chan. I know all of your weaknesses."

He rolls his eyes. Like that doesn't go both ways. The idiots on the team think that she shits sunshine and pisses rainbows, like she never blackmailed a bitch in her life. It's bizzare how good she is at pretending to be harmless. It's more bizzare how many people _buy_ it.

Still, Aomine's not in the mood to argue with her. He grunts and looks back down at his shoes. He feels off kilter.

Momoi sighs. "Don't feel too bad about it, Dai-chan. She really did get hurt pretty bad."

Aomine studiously ignores her. He doesn't want to think about Hana right now. The thought itches, scratches at the back of his head. He wants to play. He wants to know how deep that well is dug. He's dying for something, anything to challenge him.

 _My kingdom for a good game._

Too bad Hana is Hana. Aomine's never once seen her back down, or compromise on anything. When she could bother having an opinion on anything, she didn't let anyone change it. Not even Kise, not even Akashi.

It's not like Aomine and Hana were close. _He_ wasn't going to be the one to move her.

Imayoshi walks up to the two of them, that stupid smile on his face.

"I told you I'm done." Aomine snapped.

Imayoshi waves off his words. "I think we got this one in the bag. That Kagami kid is pretty good, but the rest of them are flagging. So long as nothing else happens, we'll be fine."

A moment of silence.

Imayoshi looks up at the clearing. "I just jinxed it, didn't I?"

"I'm afraid so." Momoi says.

Aomine's attention is snatched away by movement from the other bench. He narrows his eyes.

Hana is talking to her flat as a board coach. The coach shakes her head, mouth pursed, but Hana leans in, still talking - and whatever it is that she's saying is making the four eyed captain nod thoughtfully along.

Kagami joins the huddle and Aomine can see the surprise on his face all the way across the court. Kagami glances at Hana and slaps her on the back. He says something to the coach. Kuroko pops up and says something as well. Kuroko keeps glancing at Hana, a tiny crease between his eyes.

A rising tension in the back of Aomine's mind blocks out whatever Satsuki and Imayoshi say. He leans forward, as if that will let him make out Serin's words. If this is what he thinks it is...

 _C'mon. C'mon. C'mon -_

"Do they seriously have a girl as a main player?" Some no name third string says, voice all sneer, like he's some hot shit. Aomine doesn't even remember his name, so he can't be that good.

Don't get him wrong: Aomine sees where the disbelief is coming from. Hana is an average sort of pretty and delicate with it. Back when her hair was long, she looked like a hina doll come to life. Even with the short hair, Hana's uniform makes her look smaller, her shoulders fragile. The bruises under her eyes make her look paler, wan, like some sort of shoujo heroine.

Hana looks like she never cold clocked a motherfucker for pissing her off.

Aomine can see where they're coming from - but they must be fucking morons too look at a person with eyes like that and dismiss them because of something as stupid as gender. Like saying Akashi wouldn't put your ass in the ground because he's short or something.

Aomine remembers a few of those assholes - mostly upperclassmen who thought Akashi was easy pickings

Bam. Scissors everywhere.

If he was _really_ pissed off, Akashi would set Hana on them. She enjoyed a good brawl in a way Akashi felt was beneath him. Aomine wouldn't bet on himself against her in a straight up fight.

"Maybe they think that Aomine'd be distracted by her or something?" Another brain dead extra says - which, bitch, what the fuck?

The very idea of finding Hana in any way attractive would seriously violate the bro code. Satsuki'd never forgive him, and Aomine doubts that Hana would be any better.

The first guy snorts. "Like that's going to work. Look at her chest! Almost totally flat. Nice legs do not make up for that."

"Eh. I've always preferred my girls to be a little on the smaller side."

Speaking of Satsuki, Aomine is tempted to slide away from the cold energy she's radiating with a smile.

 _Dumbasses_.

"You can't kill them." He says. "Imayoshi would blame me for it."

Imayoshi never blames Satsuki for anything. He always gives Aomine his disappointed stare, like he's corrupting her or whatever. Like Satsuki needs his help to be evil.

Momoi smiles. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Dai-chan."

Sure. Aomine thinks about stopping her, but then decides he care enough. Talk shit, get hit. Or in this case, blackmailed within an inch of their life. Satuski's not one to mess around when she's decided that she wants something; and she wanted Hana bad.

He's seen what happened to some of the gnats that swarmed around Hana at Teiko, before Akashi reigned Satsuki in a bit.

It... wasn't pretty. Lives were pretty much ruined.

"You've got it so bad." Aomine says. Even with every part of him singing with anticipation, he still has to make fun of Satsuki for her weird crush. It's his _duty_.

Because, seriously. It's _Hana_. It's like having a crush on Akashi, or Murasakibara. She has the personality of a bad-tempered, apathetic cactus.

Satsuki slaps him on the back of the head hard enough to sting when she stands. "Shut up, Dai-chan. Not everyone is married to basketball like you." Her voice is lofty, but she can't hide the red tint to her cheeks, the way her eyes flicker to the other side of the court. It's only for a second, but it's more than enough.

He rolls his eyes. His eyes follow.

The coach nods at last, reluctance in every line of her body.

Kagami slaps Hana on the back again. She only rolls her eyes. Anyone else would have lost their hand by now. Satsuki might have some serious competition.

It's a distant thought, unimportant because Hana is sheds her jacket. Underneath it is a jersey.

Hana is playing.

Aomine can feel his lips pulling back into a something like a smile.

 _Finally_.

Satsuki sighs. "I'll go get the plays ready." Because of course she's already prepared for this. She smiles at the two idiots from before, and their faces go red. "Can you two help me get some equipment?"

"Of course, Momoi-san!" They practically trip over themselves, standing to flock to her.

Satsuki laughs, bright and fake, and leads them away.

Aomine rubs his head and scowls at her back. "'Of course, Momoi-san.' Fucking morons."

Imayoshi sighs and Aomine realizes he forgot the captain was there at all. He watches you with unreadable eyes.

"She really that good?"

He's not asking about Satsuki. Aomine rolls his shoulders. Imayoshi's attention always brings back the unpleasant sensation of being picked apart on a visceral level that dealing with Akashi left Aomine. "Yeah."

"Hmm." Imayoshi finally looks away, letting Aomine exhale. "This should be fun, then. I'm looking forward to it."

Yeah.

Aomine is too.

* * *

It's more than intuition that makes Aomine sure Hana will be a worthy opponent. For a long time she's just Kise's weird, blank faced friend.

After, Aomine starts paying a bit of attention - but only enough to note how hostile most people were to her. She'd walk down the hallway and people would get shift away from her like she was a queen, or some sort of leper. No one ignored her.

Aomine does. Hana is just some girl, and he's got his own problems.

His room is dark. The glow of the clock mocks him. He's been lying in bed for nearly four hours, sleepless. He's exhausted, limbs heavy, head like a weight.  
It feels like something is withering insider of him, drying out from too much light and not enough rain. The game from yesterday keeps replaying in the back of of his mind until it skips across his last nerves. Aomine's already forgotten the name of the team he played, but he can't stop thinking about the looks on their faces and how quickly they gave up.

Aomine scowls at the ceiling and sits up. He's not sleeping. His room feels suffocating, like the posters on the walls are watching him.

It's easy to slip out of his window and down the tree outside it - he's done it a million times before, when he was going over to Satsuki's for something or hankering for a midnight game of basketball. Should be easy enough to find a place to grab a pick up game, wash the bad taste out of his mouth.

Sure enough, Aomine hears the sound of ball against pavement. There is always some college kids around who have a pick up game going. Maybe, Aomine thought without much hope, playing against college kids would be a challenge?

He passed from shadow to the light of the street lamps, turned the corner and stopped, looking at the court.

Nijimura? Aomine frowned. What the hell was the captain doing out here? Aomine fell back into the shadow, hoping Nijimura doesn't notice him. He doesn't want to get into trouble. There was nothing more boring than running laps until he collapsed from exhaustion.

The captain was in the middle of a vicious one on one battle, and Aomine forgot about hiding. His opponent was small, but it was clear that Nijimura was barely holding them back. Who was that? Not someone on the basketball team, Aomine definitely would've noticed someone who could keep up with Nijimura (and Akashi was the only one short enough to fit that silhouette.)

There was something familiar about the way they moved. It itched at the back of his mind, like a word just on the tip of his tongue.

It clicks a second later, when they spin around Nijimura faster than thought and break past his guard. Nijimura moves forward, but it's too late. They're already jumping.

Aomine steps forward, tense. If it was him playing, could he have stopped them?

He doesn't know. They moved like Kise, if Kise were shorter and much faster. With no pause between spin and shot, the ball landed in the basket without touching the sides.

Nijimura laughs. "Your win again."

The figure shrugged and went to pick up the ball, finally passing under the light.

Aomine blinks.

It's a girl. Someone from the girls team? Her long hair is black even in the light, falling over her shoulders. There's something familiar about her. Aomine narrows his eyes.

He's seen her around, but where?

The photography chick! The slightly scary one who never changes facial expression, that Satsuki talked to on occasion. Kise's friend!

She can play? More importantly, can she play him?

"You owe me lunch." She says. It might be the first time Aomine's heard her speak. Her voice is smoother than he was expecting, strangely nice.

She spins the ball on one finger like it's effortless.

Nijimura laughs again and wipes the sweat off his face with his shirt. "Alright, fine. A deal's a deal. Maji burger?"

Her lip curls. "Please. Do I look like a cheap date?"

"Compared to you, everyone has cheap tastes Hana."

Right, her name is Hana. Aomine took one step forward - and hesitates. Nijimura is still there. He doesn't want to run laps tomorrow. There's also an aura around the two of them, like they exist in their own private bubble. It's weird, but Aomine doesn't want to intrude.

Aomine stays where he is and watches the two of the them walk away.

He can find her tomorrow.

* * *

Halftime is over. Hana steps onto the court and Aomine can't keep the savage grin off his face.

He steps out to meet her, heart fast in his chest, thoughts moving faster. Going through the possible moves, what he knows about her preferences and abilities thanks to Satsuki.

He can feel Satsuki's worried gaze from the side, but he doesn't stop. Keeps going until he's standing in front of Hana.

They look at each other without speaking. He doesn't know what she's capable of, but it doesn't matter.

The only one who can defeat Aomine is Aomine himself.

She lets out a breath, adjusts the familiar looking sweat-band on her wrist. "Well. Let's get this started." She glances over her shoulder, at her team, then back to Aomine. "Try to keep up."

The game starts - and she's gone.

Only instinct let's Aomine react in time, but even then he's just a step too late. Hana has the ball, and she's down the court, blowing past his shocked team.

Aomine can barely hear them over his own heart, a beat of thunder in his chest. Adrenaline is a sweet song in his veins.

This. This is what he wants. A struggle. A even match.

Aomine laughs. It sounds half deranged and he doesn't care. He can't care.

"I was waiting for this." He says to her, voice low and horse.

Hana catches the rebound like it's effortless. She dribbles the ball and looks at Aomine. Her eyes are heavy and dark. Nothing in, nothing out.

His grin feels like a jagged cut in his face. "Well Hana? Let's play."

* * *

By the time Imayoshi calls a break, Seirin is only ten points behind.

Aomine can't tear his eyes away from the other bench, from the girl there. He feels like vibrating out of his skin with impatience. He wants to play. He wants to win. He has the taste of it, like blood in the water. The game itself is unimportant.

"You weren't joking." Imayoshi is pensive. "You know some scary people, Momoi-san."

Momoi sighs. "I knew she was good... but this was beyond my expectations." She sounds irritated with herself. "I should've seen this coming, but I've never seen Hana-chan do this before."

"Never?" Imayoshi asks.

"Never."

"Well. I wonder why not?" Imayoshi claps Aomine on his shoulder. "Must be exhausting going up against this idiot all the time. Lord knows I have a hard time with it."

Satsuki pauses, and Aomine looks at her. She's got her thinking face on. "Maybe it's not she wouldn't. Maybe it's that she can't."

Aomine narrows his eyes. "Satsuki?"

Momoi bites her lips. "Think about it, Dai-chan. How much energy does it take to play like that? Can she keep it up the whole time without - without faltering?" She spreads her hands in a helpless gesture. "I don't know. Call it intuition, but I don't know if Hana-chan can keep this up the whole match. She's never been on a team before. She might not even have the stamina."

"So we wait her out?" Imayoshi asks. "Wait, she's never played on a team before?"

Momoi shakes her head. "Never even played in an official game before Seirin, as far as I know." And her tone made it quite clear that she did, in fact, know.

Imayoshi sighs. "Youngsters these days are getting scarier and scarier."

Satsuki laughs. "You're only one year older than us, sempai."

"I have an old spirit."

Aomine lets out a heavy breath, ignoring the rest of the conversation. The layout of the team is strange. Kuroko is out, even though his misdirection has to be wearing off. It only takes Aomine three seconds to find him instead of five. He knows Kuroko, and Kagami is nothing to write home about.

Let Satsuki worry about strategies. They might help with the rest of Seirin, but not with Hana. Hana is a genius, and the only way to beat her is through skill.

Hana has stepped into the same realm Aomine lives in.

* * *

Tekio is dull, without basketball, and yet Aomine can't nap. He feels tired, like the word is slowly draining of color. Not even his guavere models can cheer him up. He's laying down on the roof, arms crossed behind his head, staring up at the sky. He spends more and more time skipping practice lately. He feels restless. Waiting. Impatient. Looking at the second string is irritating, the way they flinch back and give up.

The door to the stairwell creaks open. Foot falls. Too light to be a teacher. Aomine opens his eyes a crack.

Hana's long curtain of hair drifts in the wind, it's the only part of her that looks like the world can affect it. She's more statue than girl, more steady than give.

She spots Aoine and tilts her head. For a second he thinks she's going to ask, but in the end she only turns back to lean on the railing around the edge, staring out at the horizon. For one second he thinks she's here to take pictures, but the camera stays still around her neck.

Aomine sprawls back out. He puts the magazine over his face, so he doesn't have to look at her. Tch. Like he wants to talk to her anyway. It's been months, and Aomine still can't get her to play.

Why will she play with Nijimura, but not with him?

He never asks. He can't shake the feeling that he wasn't supposed to see th

Time passes. Aomine dozes off a few times, but every time he wakes, Hana is still there, standing in the same place.

When the final bell rings, Aomine yawns and stands up. He and Momoi were going to meet up after school. Normally he wouldn't give a shit, but the company up here leaves much to be desired. Sometimes, Hana is a friend. She's got the driest sense of humor and no shame. Right now, the awareness of her itches, aches like a bad tooth.

His hand is on the door knob before Hana speaks.

"How does it feel?"

He glances over his shoulder, scowl on his face. "How does what feel?"

She's still facing away, watching the sky. Her hands fold neatly behind her back. Her hair is dark. "Being the best."

Aomine feels like she punched him in the gut. Is she mocking him? How does it feel, being the best?

If fucking sucks.

He feels cold and bored all the time, like nothing will ever be interesting again. In the beginning, Aoine held to Kuroko's words like a lifeline. His grip has been slipping.

Hana glances of her shoulder, and meets his eyes.

Aomine's heart sinks. She looks bored.

He leaves without giving an answer.

It sounds like a ending when the door clicks shut behind him.

It's the last time the two of them talk, until Seirin.

* * *

The team goes after Hana's weak side. They push and push and push, but she never veers off track, never even flinches.

"Is she a monster?" Sakurai asks. He's dripping in sweat. Seirin isn't a pushover team. Their upperclassmen are skilled, but not talented. Plus kagami and Kuroko... Seirin was a nightmare. For anyone who wasn't Aomine, that was.

Hana closes the gap with a single effortless step. She's relentless, and everywhere at once. Unstoppable. Unavoidable.

It's pure talent.

Overwhelming Talent.

For anyone else, this would be the point they gave up. How could anyone go against a thing like this, something that moved to fast to be entirely human?

Aomine isn't anyone else.

He hits the zone feet first.

It's not like changing the gear in a car, but like being submerged in a poor of cool liquid, like breathing right for the first time. Like coming home. Aomine feels like a spark, like all of his nerves are jumping, snapping, moving too fast for his conscious thought to keep up. Every play, every counter play is frenetic, backed by the clock tick- ticking down.

He meets Hana where she stands -

and then moves past her. It's easy. For the first time, he passes her, ball in hand. Lines up the shot.

 _Swish_.

Just like that Touo is in the lead again.

...Disappointing.

Aomine turns around with a sneer on his face, because what was that? Was she giving up already

Aomine meets Hana's eyes and pauses.

He's never been able to read her, but her eyes resemble nothing more than glass marbles set into her skull. Cold and unfeeling. Everything outside the zone is muffled, but Aomine feels the first shadow of concern.

"Not enough, I guess." Her voice should be conversational, but instead there's a chilling lack of any tone at all. She cracks her neck. "Alright. Noted."

She looks up, meets Aomine's eyes. There's no hesitation, not even the slightest hint of self doubt. Only calm, absolute assurance. She stands like she's the center the world turns around, like nothing can move her.

This is the reason people couldn't just leave Hana alone, the reason most people resented her. She just stood there like she's never had a bad day in her life. Like defeat is a foreign word. She doesn't spare Aomine a second glance; returns to her team.

Aomine grins. He couldn't care less about her trash team. He's waiting for whatever she pulls next.

Whatever it is, he'll win.

The only one who can beat him is him.

* * *

One of the downsides of being in the Zone is that it burns through stamina like Murasakibara through a bag of novelty snacks. It took him months of practice to just last longer than a few seconds.

At first - then he started to get better.

Now, it's effortless. Just like everything else relating to basketball.

Even in the zone, Aomine needs to push himself to keep up with Hana. It's the most fun he's had in a game in years.

Aomine rides the electric energy of the zone, makes basket after basket. His own team is an afterthought at most. Serin isn't even worthy of a being an afterthought.

Even Kuroko.

When You're a giant, why worry about ants?

Hana is the only one Aomine has to worry about that, and even she pales in comparison to the zone.

Aomine follows her at her heels, gets close enough to block her way. She feints left, and Aomine stops her true lunge to the right. She spins around, and - passes the ball away, out into an empty space behind her. She spins again, while he's confused and moves past him.

Giving up?

Crushing disappointment.

Then the ball flings itself back.

Shock races through Aomine.

Kuroko?

Aomine reacts a half second too late, thrusts out his hand and tries to knock the ball out of the air. A smaller hand reaches it just a half second before he does - and Hana has the ball again. She's behind him.

If she headed for the basket, Aomine would've been able to stop her; so she doesn't. She takes a single step back - and lets it go of the bal, micro seconds before Aomine can touch the ball.

Not towards the basket.

A blur of red in the corner of Aomine's eye.

Kagami!

He grabs the ball out of the air, somehow twisting mid-air and lining up the shot.

 _Swish_.

The buzzer goes off.

A second of utter quiet from the crowd. Then it's like the room explodes into noise.

The last whistle blows. Aomine stares at the scoreboard.

The numbers don't change.

"I… lost." He says quietly.

A shift of color at his side, and Aomine knows that Kuroko is standing by his side for the first time in months. Aomine's brain is a cd played too many times; his thoughts keep skipping.

 _The only one who can_

 _The only one who_

 _\- beat me is -_

"I did tell you." Kuroko's voice is very quiet.

Aomine looks at him. It feel like his hands are to big for his body, like his thoughts are moving a tick too slow.

 _"There's someone out there who'll challenge you."_

Kuroko nudges Aomine with his shoulder.

Aomine blinks back burning from his eyes. His throat felt thick. That brief contact felt like something inside him relax.

Under the shock, under the apathy, Aomine misses Kuroko.

Losing sucks - but Aomine feel like a weight's been lifted from his chest. Lighter, cleaner. The sound of Seirin celebrating doesn't grate.

"You -you should go back to your team." His voice is rough. Kuroko doesn't belong with him anymore. They've both moved on.

"We'll talk later." Kuroko gives Aomine a tiny smile. He goes to join the celebration of his team, accepted into their fold without a second thought. Kagami pulls him in the a headlock, and Kuroko stumbles into him.

"We did it!" Kagami crows.

"Of course we did!" Captain four-eyes snaps. "We were always going to do it, we're amazing!"

Hana is still. No celebration. The ball is still in her hands. If it weren't for the rise and fall of her chest she'd seem like some sort of strange marble statue.

"Hana?" Kagami asks.

Aomine's heart sinks.

"Mashiro-san?" Kuroko breaks out of Kagami's headlock and approaches Hana. She twitches for the first time at the sound of his voice. "Is something wrong?"

She blinks, looks at her shadow. It looked like it took effort. "We… won."

Kuroko looks blank to anyone who didn't know him, but Aomine could see the way his mouth kicked down. He's worried. "...Yes. Mashiro-san worked hard."

"Is it enough?" She asks. Her eyes are still blank.

"Yes. It's enough."

"Oh. Good."

Like a puppet with it's string cut, Hana collapses all at once. The ball drops out of her hands, rolls across the ground.

Kagami catches her before she hits the ground. "Hana? Hana!"

Aomine feels cold. Hana's eyes are still open, but it's vacant, like looking at a dolls.

"Mashiro-san?" Kuroko's asks, alarmed.

* * *

 **dun dun dun**

 **next chapter: kise and Karou and nijimura oh my**


	25. XXV: Interlude four: Black

Laying in the hospital bed with her eyes closed, Hana looks like she's one second away from blinking awake, ready to start a fight with Kagami, or scare some poor second year with a single glance.

She looks _fine_. Out of everything, that's the part that bothers Kuroko.

Kuroko stares, blank faced, at the opposite wall of the hospital room. It's dark blue. Hana has it to herself. After the game and the roar of the crowd, it's strange to be somewhere so still, so quiet. He can hear the buzz of the electric lamps, the shuffle of people outside, Hana's soft breathing. Kuroko's hand clenches on the armrests of his uncomfortable plastic chair.

A shift of cloth and Kuroko's head snaps up, heart in his throat -

Kagami jumps. He's sitting in an identical chair on the other side of Hana's bed. Kuroko and Kagami stare at each other.

Kagami raises an eyebrow. "You okay?"

Kuroko shifts, draws back into that place of stillness. He's waiting. "I am fine." He says. His mouth feels dry. He doesn't wait for Kagami's answer; the wall isn't interesting, but it's better than looking at Hana.

The doctors couldn't find anything wrong with her. They tested for hours, while the team waited outside and all they could come up with is: Exhaustion.

It's not exhaustion. Kuroko knows that, because he's seen Hana play the entire starting line into sweaty, tired messes. Her stamina is as monstrous as the rest of her, and one game - even against Aomine - would not put her into this... this state.

The door opens and Kuroko and Kagami look up. Kise walks in and throws himself next to Kuroko with an explosive sigh. Kuroko is abruptly thrown back into the stadium, and the way Kise launched over the balcony like gravity had no hold on him. This is the opposite; this is Kise pushed down by some invisible hand.

(When she fell, it doesn't look like she's asleep. Her dark eyes stare up at the ceiling, ignore the bright lights, the attempts to get her attention. She doesn't even blink. Her pupils don't track Kagami's hand. She looks worse than dead - she looks _empty_. The only sign of life is the way chest rises and falls.

Kuroko is the one who closes her eyes in the end. Her skin was almost hot to the touch; not the cold stone he half expected.

The coach calls the hospital. Kuroko looks up and meets Momoi's wide, terrified eyes.)

Kise melts into the chair next to Kuroko. Their shoulders brush and Kuroko stares harder at the wall, mouth a thin line.

Not the time.

"Well?" Kagami asks, impatient. His temper is short.

Kise rubs his eyes. "Well what?"

"What do you mean well what? What the fuck is wrong with her? Did the doctor say anything? Do they know? Is she going to be okay?"

Kise shrugs. He looks older today, more exhausted. Hana put him as her emergency contact. "They don't know anything." He says - and then nothing else.

There's something not quite right about his tone, something that creeps up in the back of Kuroko's mind, though he couldn't say what. It's like -

"Why the hell do you sound so unconcerned?" Kagami snaps.

It's like something clicks in Kuroko's head, because Kagami is right. Kise doesn't sound like someone who's sister collapsed in the middle of a crowd. He sounds tired and strained, but not - not worried. Not like he should be.

Kise glares at Kagami. "It's not like panicking will help any!"

Kagami stands up with a screech. "I'm not _panicking_! Something is wrong with Hana! Don't you care?"

Kise stands up himself, and Kuroko catches a glimpse of gold out of the corner of his eyes. His hands are fists. "Do you try to lecture me - Hana is my sister -"

"Fat lot of good that does her, with the way you and your little rainbow club treat her, like some sort of -"

"Oh my god, I can't control how the rest of the generation reacts to her!"

"Yeah, god forbid you ever be around to talk to her! Who cares if she's so closed off nobody would know if she died until she missed school!"

Kise hands closed into fists. "You don't know anything about us! You think I haven't tired to figure this out? Get some answers? It's always the same! There's nothing physically wrong with her, nobody knows anything, and Hanacchi isn't talking! What am I supposed to do?"

Kuroko finally looks at Kise. "The same?"

Kise freezes.

"The same as what, Kise-kun?"

There's a creak as Kagami leans forward. "This happened before? Do you know what's going on, Kise-kun?"

"...I shouldn't have said that." Kise says, shoulder scrunched up around his ears. "She wouldn't - "

"Wouldn't what? Want to share a single thing that goes on in her goddamn head?" Kagami scoffs. "I past caring about what Hana _wants_. Kise. What the fuck is wrong with her?"

Silence fills the room.

Hana does not move. Remains in the bed, softly breathing.

Kise gestures Kuroko forward and Kuroko goes. Kise's fingers wrap around Kuroko's wrist almost delicately. He pulls Kuroko down to sit next to him by Hana's bedside. "I have a theory."

"Oh?" Kuroko manages to say. Kise's fingers are a point of heat against his wrist. Two of them are resting on the heartbeat in Kuroko's wrist. Can Kise hear Kuroko's heart?

Surely he can. It's almost loud enough to drown out Kise's words.

"Do you know why Hana can see you all the time?" Kise asks.

Kuroko blinks. Kagami looks up, eyes narrowed. "Mashiro-san has many talents."

Everything in her life seems to be handed to her on a silver platter, waiting at her leisure for her to puck it out of the air.

He glances at Hana.

Or so he believed.

"Hanacchi was always paying attention, looking for the perfect shot. Photography is the only thing she really works at." Kise mimics bringing a camera up to his face with one hand. "It's not just limited to you."

It's everything.

Her reflexes are insane because she's not reacting. Somewhere, behind the lense of a camera Hana learned to pay attention to everything around her. Coupled with her innate talent, and it made someone who could keep up with Aomine in the middle of the zone. Kuroko has seen Hana snap from asleep to awake when a classmate brushed too close to her. He flips over his memories, and it's there. That hyper awareness. It never turns off. And if it never turns off -

The human brain isn't designed to work like that.

Kuoko feels cold. "Kise-kun thinks Mashiro-san is suffering from sensory overload."

It... fit. There was very little Hana hated more that crowds, or being around noisy people. There was little she liked more than being left alone. She stayed by herself, she lived by herself, she ate by herself, unless one of the team dragged her lunch with them.

"This isn't the first time this has happened." Kuroko says. Kise must have gotten the evidence for his theory from somewhere.

Kise's laugh sounds a little bitter, a little like a sob. "Not really. I remember the first time - we were seven years old and it was my birthday. I had a party. There were so many kids there, and I knew, I knew Hanacchi hated being around our classmates. I was selfish."

Kise looks at Kuroko and smiles. It's not a happy expression. "She was fine. Stayed the whole time. It was after the party. She disappeared and I found her in my room, under my bed. She was so still, I thought she was dead at first. It was the scariest thing I've ever seen."

Kuroko's feet take him a step forward before he realizes. His hand is halfway lifted to do - something. He doesn't know. He swallows and forces it down to his side.

Now is not the time.

Kise looks back at Hana and sighs. "We took her to the hospital. The best doctors in the world were called, and they all said the same thing: there's nothing wrong with her. She's just... gone. Empty. It only took her a day to wake up, so the doctors just put it down to not sleeping well. Too excited for the party, they said." His tone made it clear how much he believed that, and Kuroko didn't blame him. Hana did not get excited over things.

"She never tells me anything." And Kise sounds resigned, not bitter. "But it's happened three times more that I know of. The last time was in the second year at Teiko, right before she started dating Akashicci. That was a bad one. She didn't move or eat or drink for nearly two weeks."

"I remember." Kuroko says. Hana generated gossip even when she wasn't there, and her long absence was commented on. He heard countless theories - Hana was in America, Hana was dealing with the Yakuza, Hana finally snapped and got in a fight bad enough to land her in police custody.

None of the rumors are quite as bad as the truth.

Hana wasn't there because she shut herself down.

"What can we do?" Kagami asks.

Kise sighs. "Nothing. There's nothing anyone can do. It's like Hanacchi doesn't even realize there's a problem. She'll just look at you like you're crazy if you try to bring it up."

"Bullshit." Kagami's expression is tight. "We're her team, there has to be something." He glances at Kuroko. "Coach could order her to do… something."

Kuroko frowns. "Kagami-kun."

"Oh yes, please tell me how you plan to get Hanacchi to do what you want. In fact, call me before you do. I'll bring the popcorn." Kise drawls.

"Kise-kun." Kuroko says. "That is uncalled for." Though, he can't say he disagrees.

"Sorry, Kurokocchi." Kise says, not sounding sorry at all.

Kagami deflates. He looks at Hana and runs a hand through his hair. "You're such a pain in the ass." He says, or Kuroko thinks he does, because Kagami's slipped back into English.

"Kise-kun, is there really nothing that we can do to prevent things like this?" Kuroko asks. Something in the back of his mind feels itchy. It's like Kuroko is standing on the court in Teikou white again, watching Aomine walk away.

Kuroko doesn't want to lose another light.

No matter how irritating he finds Hana to be.

"Playing Aomine on that level isn't easy." Kise says with the experience of one who knows what he's talking about. "It takes a lot of focus." Kise looks away, looks at Hana. Kuroko can see the moment the anger drains out of him.

Kuroko is abruptly glad that Aomine's captain took him and Momoi away a few hours in. He doubts Aomine would handle the news that he likely had something to do with Hana's state. Aomine plays at being heartless, but he cares about his friends more than anyone.

Kise smooths the hair back from her face. He looks so tired.

Kuroko rubs his chest.

Not. The. Time.

"So, what can we do?" Kagami asks.

Kise's smile is bitter. "Nothing. There's not a thing you can do to wake her up. Believe me, I've tried."

"Seriously?"

Kise presses his head to Kuroko's shoulder. Kuroko's heart sinks.

It's answer enough.

Kuroko hesitates, but lets him. Kagami settles back into the chair.

They settle in to wait.

* * *

Hana doesn't wake that night. It becomes too late to stay, visiting hours are over. Kise, who's put down as family, waves them out the door without looking. One last glance, and Kuroko leaves him to it. Sometimes it's better to be alone.

"Come on." Kagami hooks an arm around Kuroko's shoulders, tugs him away from the door. "Let's get some Maji burger. My treat."

Kuroko lets Kagami drag him out to eat. It's more of a tradition by this point. The two of them always find themselves pushed together. Kuroko feels oddly unbalanced without Hana there to silently judge them for eating. Garbage, she always says.

Kagami must feel the same way, because he only orders fifteen burgers instead of thirty.

Kuroko picks at the vanilla shake and Maji burger Kagami forces on him. He's not hungry, even after the game today.

Kagami plows through five burgers before he speaks. "So," he says, mouth still full, "You gonna tell me what the hell is bothering you? Besides the obvious."

Kuroko starts and looks up from his shake. "Kagami-kun?"

His eyebrows draw down. "You've been weird this whole time. what the hell is wrong with you?"

"One of our teammates collapsed in front of us, Kagami-kun. Of course I am unsettled."

Kagami sighs. "I said beyond the obvious, Kuroko. You don't like Hana."

Kuroko finds he can't look Kagami in the eye, staring down without his milkshake like it held the answers of the universe. A thick tension spreads out through the table, putting their own little corner of the restraint into an almost unbreakable quiet.

How is it that this team is so good at reading Kuroko?

He puts effort into being unreadable, and they all seem to blow right through it. Coach, Captain Hyuuga, the upperclassmen, Kagami.

Hana.

But then, that's nothing new. She's always been good at reading Kuroko. Seeing him, seeing through him.

Kuroko turns the Maji burger over in his hands. "Kagami-kun is unclear."

A hand reaches into Kuroko's view, takes the burger and unwraps it, then puts it back in his hands. "Eat, Kuroko. And you damn well know what I'm talking about."

"I am not hungry."

"I don't care, dude. You need to eat - for all I know that vanilla shake is the only thing you'll have before getting home."

Kuroko doesn't twitch, but it's close. Kagami has a remarkable intuition. He glances up and meets Kagami's eyes. There's no give in them. Kuroko has no doubt that he'll sit there until Kuroko eats the whole burger.

Reluctantly, Kuroko takes a bite. It tastes like sawdust, but Kagami gives him an approving nod.

"Also, don't think I didn't notice you dodging the question again." Kagami starts back in on his own food. "What the hell is your problem with Hana?"

Kuroko pauses.

"Normally, I wouldn't give a fuck. So long as the two of you play together like always, your relationship is your own business." He points at Kuroko with his burger. "The two of you are so goddamn weird about each other it's getting stupid. You read each other's minds but you also act like strangers who don't like each other."

Kuroko focuses back on his food. He's halfway through it and already he feels slightly nauseated. "Mashiro-san and I simply do not get along."

Kagami snorts. "Bullshit. Whenever you two team up to give me a hard time, you get along just fine."

Kuroko says nothing.

They sit in the quiet for long enough that Kuroko half hopes that Kagami will drop the subject, because the thing is - he doesn't know how to put it into words.

Hana could have saved them. The Generation of Miracles fell apart and Hana could have kept them together, if only she tired. She could have been the rival that Aomine so desperately needed, the partner that Kise wanted, the friend that pushed Midorima to interact with the rest of them more, motivation for Murasakibara.

Akashi's equal.

He thinks about telling Kagami about that moment in the hallway at Teiko, anger turning his head cold, his words colder. Thinks about the way nothing seemed to touch her. Hana, above him and looking down.

Just like always.

* * *

Before Teikou , before the last game, before generation fell apart, Kuroko considered Kise little more than an annoyance. His gold hair and eyes shine, but they're always... cold when they look at Kuroko.

He knows the question in them.

What is someone like you doing on a team like this?

It was familiar enough that it didn't even bother Kuroko anymore. The rest of the team thought it too, and so did the rest of the first string. Everyone except Aomine, who never once doubted Kuroko's ability and Akashi, because he didn't do anything as mundane as doubting himself.

Like Kuroko didn't put everything he had into practice. He knows that he's no Aomine, but seeing Kise do things in hours that would take Kuroko weeks is difficult.

So he stops watching. Focused back onto practice, onto disappearing for good.

Kise's attitude changes sometimes after the first game he starts in. It's a shock to go from 'disdainful popular part time model' to 'overgrown Labrador who loves you'.

Kise is proud and a little cold, but he never hold back from what he wants.

It's as admirable as it is annoying.

He clings. He _whines_. He brings food and offerings with an invisible tail wagging behind him.

Kuroko remembers the first time he notices Kise. It comes late, after he decides he likes Kuroko.

It's dark outside, and Kise is waiting at the front door. The rest of the first string is gone. Even Aomine headed out an hour before. Kuroko stays behind, because there's a restless energy inside his chest he can't shake. He needs to move. Basketball drills are more like meditation by this point.

It's winter, but Kise stands in the open door. The night is black outside. Kuroko remembers just standing there, in between sets, looking at Kise. His hair is bright against the night, his back to Kuroko. His shoulders are relaxed, and there's something about the breadth of his shoulders that keeps drawing Kuroko's attention. His breath rises out into the night in pale clouds.

Kise is beautiful, and it's something that projects off him, a sort of grace that one can see, even when Kise is facing away. It's like looking at a painting. Some sort of picture to another world.

Kuroko's best subject is literature, but he can't think of any poem that describes this sort of beauty.

Oh dear, Kuroko thinks.

It's not even a surprise. He know gender has very little impact on his preferences.

His thoughts are broken by the sound of footsteps, almost inaudible. He turns around and finds a dark haired girl. standing behind him with her camera raised.

 _Click._

The flash goes off.

The camera lowers and Ryugawa Hanako meets Kuroko's eyes for the first time - and there's nothing in them.

Kuroko shrinks back despite himself.

When Kuroko is too tired to pay attention in class, he likes to practice going unnoticed in crowded areas, see how close he can get to people's conversations without them noticing. Aomine calls him a nosy gossip but . It's how he first hears about Hana.

Hanako Ryugawa is brilliant. Hanako Ryugawa is talented. Hanako Ryugawa has a famous lawyer mother and more money than god. Hanako Ryugawa is a stuck up asshole. Hanako Ryugawa blackmails girls who get too close to her model boyfriend, that heartless bitch. Poor Boyfriend-kun, trapped in her clutches, if only someone could save him from his controlling, scary girlfriend, Boyfriend-kun could finally be happy with his true love.

No one ever mentioned who the boyfriend's true love was.

Kuroko knows who Hanako Ryugawa is. By the end of the first week, everyone knows who she is. It's almost alarming how fast word about her spreads. Every other person has a story, each more outrageous than the last.

Outside the rumors, Kuroko remembers finding her… underwhelming. She seemed just... normal, whenever she spoke with Akashi or Nijimura. She doesn't speak to the rest of the team much. Her face was plain, and Kuroko doesn't think he's ever seen her look up from her camera.

He gets it now.

Her eyes are bottomless and uncaring. Lightless. She looks like she's considering how best to disappear him. She looks at Kuroko like she's not seeing him - or like she's seeing down to his soul and it doesn't impress her.

She stands there, and the hair on the back of Kuroko's neck stands up. Hana takes her dark eyes away from him after one long moment. Looks beyond him. "Kise." She says. Her voice is deep for such a small girl, the tone is flat and even.

Kise turns and his face lights up. "Hanacchi!" He says, looking like he swallowed a stage light, like everything in him is focused on this girl. He bounds across the room, barrels into her without stopping. She doesn't look strong, but she doesn't even budge.

"Man, I was waiting forever! You own me dinner." Kise pokes her.

She tilts her head. "You didn't have to wait."

"Yeah I did! It's dark out, I can't let a pretty girl walk home by herself." Kise says it like it's some sort of inside joke.

Kuroko gets it, in the future - Hana, needing protection. It's a hilarious thought.

In the moment, Kuroko's heart drops.

 _Model boyfriend._

Hana doesn't react. Her eyes wander the gym, show no surprise when they land on Kuroko. He sees himself mirrored in those eyes. Noted and dismissed.

She nudges a basketball Kuroko left on the ground, flips it up into the air. She catches it on one foot like it's a soccer ball, and Kise laughs.

"Wrong way, Hanacchi!"

The girl rolls her eyes and kicks the ball up. Kuroko watches it arc through the air.

 _Click._

It goes through the hoop without touching the net.

Kuroko looks back at Hana, but she's fiddling with her camera.

"A good shot." She says after a moment.

Kise laughs again, and puts his arm around her shoulders. "You're such a show off."

She rolls her eyes. It's the most emotion Kuroko has ever seen on her face.

The two of them leave without looking back. Kuroko stands there, forgotten. The basketball rolls to a slow stop beside his foot.

Kruoko picks it up and shoots.

The ball falls short, just like always.

The door is still open, but it's not the wind making him feel cold.

* * *

It's been two days, but Hana is still out cold.

The third time Kuroko trips over his own feet, Coach Aida pulls him away from practice.

"Kuroko-kun, you've been off." She says.

Kuroko finds that he can't meet her eyes, so he stares down at the floor instead. His head feels to heavy for his neck. Unbalanced. Kagami's question still rings in his ears. "I did not sleep much. I am sorry. I will pay more attention from now on."

She sighs. "No, that's not what I meant. Look - I know you're worried about Hana. That's fine. I can tell you're not up to practice today and the game left everyone tired. It's alright. I want you to take a break from practice today."

He looks up sharply. "Coach, I am perfectly -"

She holds up her hand, cutting him off surely as a knife. "This is not a negotiation. You're not in the right frame of mind for solo or team training. Take the day off. This is an order from your coach."

Kuroko swallows down the nausea and looks down. He does not want to be left behind again, but he knows from the look on her face that she will not budge on this.

After a long moment, Kuroko nods stiffly.

She gives him a small smile, claps him on the shoulder. "It's fine Kuroko. Everyone has off days."

Kuroko thinks of dark hair, dark eyes.

Not everyone.

Then he thinks of those same dark eyes, open and staring, sightless, and feels sick.

* * *

He ends up at Hana's hospital before he thinks about it. His feet lead him through train connection and busy Tokyo streets without issue. He stares up at he building, looming over him like Murasakibara in a temper, but somehow twice as menacing. Kuroko, more than anything wants to be anywhere else.

What the hell is your problem with her?

Kuroko adjusts his bag and heads into the hospital. The same nurse is on duty as yesterday. It only takes him five minutes to get her attention, and confirm that Hana has not been moved. He could have just walked in, but that would be very rude.

The door is there. Of course it is. Before Kuroko can open the door he hears something that makes him freeze.

Voices, coming from inside Hana's room. A man and a woman.

He shifts in place. It's too quiet to make out much, but he knows that voice doesn't belong to Kise. Who on earth would want to visit Hana? The coach let the school know about Hana's collapse, but none of them could get into her phone to let her parents number.

Kuroko stares at the handle of the door, finds that he can't picture Hana having parents. Like she sprung fully formed from the sea, like some ancient god of war in form of a average Japanese girl. Hana doesn't belong with anyone except Kise and maybe Akashi, in Kuroko's head.

Should he go in?

The door slides open before he can decide. Expensive leather shoes.

Heart in his throat, Kuroko glances up at the figure in the door. His eyes go wide.

"Nijimura-sempai?" He asks.

"Kuroko?" Nijimura looks as surprised as Kuroko feels.

* * *

Hana looks much the same as yesterday. Kuroko doesn't blink until he sees her chest rise and fall again. It seems to take longer with each moment. Kuroko hopes he's only imaging it. He sits down on the far side of the room, across from Nijimura.

"Been a while Kuroko." Nijimura, unlike Hana, has changed since he graduated. He looks older - he's wearing an expensive, perfectly tailored shirt and dress pants with creases sharp enough to cut. There's an equally pressed suit coat handing over the arm of his chair.

"Why are you here, Nijimura-san?" Kuroko asks.

He shrugs. He looks tired. "Me and Hana are friends. Where else would I be?"

Friends? Since when?

"Are you from Hana-chan's school?" A soft, feminine voice asks.

Kuroko jumps, jerks towards the other side of the room. . It's a young woman wearing a very soft looking sweater. She's got dark hair and large intelligent eyes. Pretty - not on Kise's level, but so very few were.

Kuroko... doesn't recognize her. "...Yes. Kuroko Tetsuya. I am a member of Hana's team."

The woman offers him a small smile. It softens her whole face, but it doesn't ease the tension behind her eyes. "Karou. I am Hana-chan's girlfriend. It's a pleasure, Kuroko-san."

It's like something grinding against the inside of his skull. Nijimura is less of a surprise to see here than this woman Kuroko doesn't know. Like Hana existing outside of Teiko, outside of the sphere of influence of the Generation of Miracles is somehow off.

Did Hana mention having a girlfriend? She might have. Kuroko has been distracted by the match coming up.

Hana was either with them or alone. The idea of Hana as a person, not some sort of entity of boredom and talent makes his head hurt. He feels like he's on the edge of a cliff, staring down at something unpleasant.

"...Yes. A pleasure as well." He says.

Kuroko glances at Hana again, but she's still motionless. His mouth pulls down into a frown. He wants - he wants her to wake up, to roll her eyes at him and be rude and irritating.

"Kuroko? What's wrong?" Nijimura asks.

"Mashiro-san isn't perfect," Kuroko blurts without thinking about it.

Kuroko has a split second to register what he says before his ears go hot, because that is a very stupid statement. Of course she was not. In fact, Kuroko had never met anyone with a less perfect personality, Murasakibara and Haizaki included.

Nijimura tilts his head. "You wanna explain that a little more?"

Kuroko ducks his head, but it doesn't help with the heat in his ears. Two pairs of eyes watch him. Neither of them speak further, and he wishes they would. Nijimura being here throws him off. He feels like he's twelve again, trying out for the team. Nijimura is easy to admire.

"After you left, we... we fell apart. It took a while. Akashi tried to hold us together, but it was too much." Finally, Kuroko admits, head still bowed.

Nijimura says nothing. Just waits.

Kuroko closes his eyes. "She did nothing while we fell apart." Kuroko says, voice low. "She just... watched. It wasn't her problem and she was right." Kuroko clasped his hands together in his lap. "I had no right to expect her to save us. She's just a person. She wasn't even on the team."

Kuroko finds himself spilling the whole story. Words fall out of his mouth one at a time, heavy as years at Teikou, watching Hana have what he wanted with so little effort, so much apathy was difficult. Kuroko tore himself to pieces for his place, staggered under the weight of the generation's indifference. He watched her walk freely past. How much he despised her for her easy life.

He was one of them, and they were important to him. She could have been one of them and denied it.

She didn't want it and Kuroko blamed her for it, because it was easier than blaming himself.d

His team could be so very, very cruel. How many times had their opponents walked away with dead eyes? How many of those challengers did he see again?

Not many.

New faces every tournament but only in the teams that Teiko took apart. Kuroko knew what they were doing, but he never spoke out. Too afraid that Akashi with his gold eye would kick him from the team. He stayed, even when he knew it was wrong.

All Kuroko ever wanted was to play. So he looked away. Said nothing, until it got too late and they stopped listening to him.

There is blame enough to spread around - but none of it belongs with Hana.

"I asked her to help me." Kuroko says. Asked her to join the team. He used Kise to push her into it, because he knew she loved him. "I didn't help her with any of it. She ended up like this because I kept pushing her. Because I was... jealous."

Kuroko's ignored his own faults for long enough. A shadow is supposed to sport it's light. Kuroko didn't. He never treated her like his light - so focused on the generation that he was willing to use her talent to get to them.

He promised Kise he'd take care of her.

"I messed up." Kuroko says.

The room is quiet. Kuroko doesn't look up. He doesn't want to see the looks on their faces.

Karou sighs. "Oh, Hana-chan."

"Yeah." Nijimura sounds tired. "Kuroko."

Kuroko flinches.

Nijimura gives him a serious look. "I'm not saying what you did was right. It was pretty screwed up." He sighs. "I'm not saying you were right, but I get it. You feel bad?"

Kuroko gives the slightest nod.

Nijimura give him a small smile. "You think I never went through this? It's hard to see Hana getting everything you want. Jealousy makes all of us stupid. When she wakes up, just apologize." He glances at Hana. "I can't tell you what'll happen, but one thing I know? Hana doesn't hold grudges."

Kuroko rubs the sting out of his eyes. "Will that work?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. It's worth a try."

Kuroko took a deep breath and nodded. He'd been stupid long enough. When Hana woke up, he'd apologize.

The three of them sat in the hospital room, listening to the machines monitoring Hana's heart.

Hana is bright light, brighter than even Aomine. Kuroko looks at her and knows he has been unworthy of being called her shadow.

He will do better.

He has to.

* * *

 **it's done, i'm done, we're good**

 **this chapter was a monster to edit and that's why it's late! took me like three hours to write and about ten to edit . it may not be perfect but it's done, and that's all i can ask for at the moment**

 **welp, there it is. how did you like Kuroko pov? Did it seem in character?**


	26. XXVI

You rise out of the dark slowly, like pulling yourself out of a pit of tar - no matter how hard you try, something is going to stick. Your eyelids weigh nearly too much for you too lift. Almost.

You blink your eyes open.

Blue walls. White ceiling. Rails on the bed. Telltale pinch of needles in the skin. The faint sound of a page turning in a magazine. The shuffle of people far away. The familiar scent of heavy-duty disinfectant.

The hospital?

Memory comes back to you in blurry pieces, like water color paint running together. The blue of Aomine's hair, how the texture of the ball under your hands felt sharp, like you could cut yourself on it. You were playing the game and Aomine stepped up to the zone, somewhere you couldn't follow.

Aomine's eyes after you won.

Then you came back to your body and it was like the crowd's roar was coming from a speaker placed against your skull and blasted at full volume. The smell of rubber and sweat stung at your nose. The feeling of clothes on your skin, of _having_ skin at all, became a physical agony.

It was just... too much.

The world was too much.

So, you left it.

The dark has never been such a welcome relief.

Another page turns.

You turn your head and look at the person reading the magazine for the first time. It feels like shifting a bolder. Dark hair, expensive clothes, the faint scent of cologne. Not Kuroko or Kagami. You're grateful. You don't have the energy to pretend to be a person right now.

"Nijimura," you say. Your notice your mouth is dry, and your voice is barely a whisper. How long were you under? You've never an episode hit you quite so badly or suddenly.

His head jerks up. The magazine tumbles to the ground. "Hana! You're awake!"

You blink, slow. His voice comes through in waves, at points too soft to hear and too loud to bear, like he's speaking from underwater. Even then, you almost flinch back from it.

 _Too loud._

You think about closing your eyes, sinking back down into the dark.

You don't. You shift up onto your arms, push yourself up. "How long was I - "

They don't hold you. You crash back down into the bed and stare blankly up at the white ceiling, a shade of white that hurts to look at. It's the first time you've had your body give out on you like this. It feels like your arms are brick and stone. You hold up your heavy arm and watch a tremor run through your hand.

Weird.

Nijimura stands up and pushes down on your shoulder, holding you in place. "Don't try to sit up, Hana. It's been nearly two weeks since you - collapsed."

"Oh." That would explain it.

"You're not even surprised." There's an odd note to his tone you can't quite make out.

You shrug, and even that tiny motion feels stiff.

Not the worst episode you've ever had. That belongs to ten-year-old you just after your first win in a photography competition. You still remember being up on stage with four other contestants, all of them at least fifteen years old. Too many people wanted to speak to you after the ceremony. After that you locked yourself in your room and stayed there. Five weeks of just sitting in the dark, hands over your ears, trying to block out the world.

(You also remember the way your parents hovered outside your room day and night, talking in low, tired voices.

It's the first time you stop resenting them long enough to understand how unlucky they got, having a daughter like _you_.)

Still. Two weeks was bad.

"This can't continue, Hana." Nijimura's voice pulls you back from your thoughts, and there's that same note in it.

You squint up at him.

He must read the confusion on your face, because he... slumps. He rubs his face. "Keeping your health a secret is stupid. Blacking out isn't normal, Hana. Kise told me you keep doing this, and it could get your seriously hurt one day."

"Kise was here?" You glance around the room again.

"Hana. Focus." Nijimura takes a deep breath. "I have to tell your parents."

You slowly turn to look at him. You say nothing.

Nijimura doesn't flinch. "I don't know what issue you have with them, and frankly I don't care. They don't deserve to be kept in the dark about something like this - "

"Don't tell them." You say, quiet.

He throws his hands up. "Why the hell not? They love you, Hana!"

"You think I don't know that?" This time your voice isn't quiet. For once you don't feel irritation. You've almost forgotten the molten lead of anger pouring down your lungs. You feel like you could breathe fire.

Inhale. Exhale.

"I know." Your keep your voice even. Anger drains, leaving nothing behind it but scorched earth. "Nijimura. This is me asking: Don't bring them here."

Nijimura stares at you. "...Why the hell not, Hana?"

You reach for words that seem to slip out of your grasp like trying to catch sunlight. "They love me, and I don't... I'm not really equipped with that kind of emotion."

You run out of words. Your head is foggy. You Close your eyes and let out a long sigh.

Awake for three minutes and already you're fucking exhausted.

You think about your mother's voice outside your room and the tears in it. Your ice-cold mother, who never cried, you think about the way your father's voice shook.

You are a wound in your parents' hearts. They bleed love for you. They pour sand into a bottomless pit, hoping to fill it up.

It's no surprise it doesn't work. You don't love them.

Even now.

They deserved so much better than you.

A creak, and a warm hand touches your forehead.

Nijimura sighs. "Alright Hana. But promise me something."

You tilt your head into his hand. It feels strangely nice after the cold of the dark. Gives you something to focus on in the noise of your own head. "What?"

"You need to talk to someone. A professional." His hand stays gentle. "This isn't normal."

"It's not going to kill me." You say.

"Please, Hana."

You think about trying to put your death into words. How do you talk about something that large, that incomprehensible? How do you describe the shape of that much dark, that much nothing?

"I'll think about it." You say. The truth.

You don't make promises you can't keep.

Nijimura sighs. "That's the most I can ask for."

* * *

You must drift off sometime after that, because the next time you open your eyes, Nijimura is gone. It's darker, and there's only a lamp by your bedside lit up. The shadows swim before you blink, and Kuroko solidifies. The dark bleaches what little color his hair has, and his skin goes from pale to paper white.

For a split second you don't really understand what you're seeing. Kuroko, sat in the same chair Nijimura used, quietly looking over a sheaf of papers.

"Kuroko." Your voice is even worse than before.

Kuroko doesn't look up from his papers. "Mashiro-san is awake. How are you feeling?"

"Like I slept for a couple weeks." You glance around. There's no sign of Kagami in the room. No discarded junk food wrappers or basketball magazines or sneaker footprints. There's also no sign of the coach or the captain, or even the upperclassmen.

No sign of Kise either.

A pinpoint of pressure throbs behind your left eye. You give up and ask directly. "Kuroko, who else came with you?"

Kuroko's face doesn't change. "I cannot wait on my own?"

"...Not really our style." You say.

Kuroko's mouth quirks down the slightest bit. On anyone else it'd be as good as a frown. "I suppose Mashiro-san is right." He sets the pile of papers on the table next to the lamp, within your reach. "I came to deliver Mashiro-san's homework she missed while - indisposed."

What a neat way of saying comatose.

You sit up - and find that your arms are still weak, but strong enough to hold you up. This body's recovery time is scary as always. "Well. I've got it now."

Kuroko doesn't move. Not to help you sit up, not to hand the homework over, not to stand and leave the way you half expect. You can hear the howl of wind outside. It screams through the canyon his silence leaves.

You watch him… not leave out of the corner of your eye, staring at his folded hands, mouth in that same strange line. You can't see his eyes.

"Did you want something?" You ask.

He only shakes his head. Still doesn't leave.

Eventually you take the sheaf of papers and look through them. Simple problems from all your classes. Normally, you wouldn't bother but there's something about this situation that's brushing against your last nerve.

There's a pen on the bedside table. You pick it up and begin solving the problems. It gives you

something to do that's not simmering in the strange atmosphere.

(Why is Kuroko here? What reason does he have to stick around?

Besides _pissing you off._ )

You don't want to punch Kuroko - okay that's a lie. You kind of want to fight Kuroko. Nijimura would absolutely object, and Kise would be give you a disappointed look. Kuroko wouldn't be much of a challenge either. He's just annoying. Even more than Murasakibara! It's not worth the trouble.

Therefore: math.

You get through two thirds of the packet before Kuroko speaks.

"Mashiro-san." He says.

You stare at the math problem and grunt once.

Kuroko takes a deep breath. "We do not get along."

"Sure don't." You say.

"It has been brought to my attention that - that my own attitude was the major factor in that. I wanted to - " He takes a deep breath and stands up. "I wanted to apologize for my past behavior."

He bows deep enough that you can only see top of his head. The pen falls out of your hand. The sound of it hitting the covers is loud to your ears.

Your mind is blank. You think you're surprised. Shocked even.

You can't remember the last time that happened.

"I have treated you horribly." Kuroko continues. "I blamed you for things beyond your control. Even after you agreed to help me, I did not support you as a shadow should support their light. I let you go your own way and didn't even attempt to help you, simply because I… I didn't like you on a personal level."

"If you choose to sever our relationship, to stop being my light," Kuroko takes a deep breath. "I would be willing to speak to the coach on your behalf."

You stare at him.

He's… offering you a way out.

You wouldn't have to play anymore.

The shift of blood inside your ears has never been so loud.

"I haven't exactly been nice to you either." You say at last.

"You have not." Kuroko's tone is dead even. Head still bowed. You wish you could see his face. "That does not excuse _my_ actions."

You want to accept. Basketball is just… boring. Far too much effort for very little reward. You stare at the top of his head, but he doesn't even twitch. You can't read the set of his shoulders.

Unlike the rest of the generation, you and Kuroko have never been friends. He emotionally blackmailed you into a situation where you're exhausted all the time.

He… gave you Seirin.

Seirin has never been afraid of you. Kagami and the coach and the upperclassmen. All of them willing to treat you like a person. To push you, not physically maybe, but mentally…

It hasn't been all bad.

"I need to think about it."

Kuroko glances up. You don't know who's more surprised: You or him.

"Will you please stop bowing, you're giving me hives." You say.

Kuroko does, adjusts his uniform. He looks the same and you're a confused about how relieved that makes you. You thumb the stack of papers again.

When you don't speak, he sighs and sits back down, then pulls a book out of his bag and opens it.

He means it. You don't doubt him. Kuroko is a better person than you ever were.

You know that he hates you for a reason. You were comfortable with that. You don't know what to do with this Kuroko who sits quietly at your bedside in comfortable quiet. Is Kuroko now on the very short list of people who can stand you?

You don't know why he's still here. He's apologized. You accepted it.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye, try to figure out what the angle on this is. Kuroko doesn't look up.

The two of you stay there in silence. The smell of whatever cleaner the hospital used fades from sharp to distant with Kuroko there to suppress it.

You solve the problems with half your attention trying to figure out what he wants now.

"Is there something wrong, Mashiro-san?" Kuroko asks after nearly half an hour has passed, without looking up from his book.

"How's..." You try to figure out the words you want to use.

 _We're your friends_ , Midorima's voice insists.

Does that count for Seirin?

You don't know. Nijimura is probably the only person you've actively asked to be your friend. Kise you got for free. Momoi decided herself. Midorima... who knows, with him.

Seirin is a mystery and you've come to accept that you're not great with picking up people's emotions.

"How's the team?" You settle on in the end.

Something in Kuroko's eyes softens a fraction. "They are well. Kagami-kun is in special training, or he would have come as well."

You struggle with yourself for a moment. Take a deep breath. The smell of whatever cleaner the hospital used fades from sharp to distant with Kuroko there to suppress it.

"You can call me Hana." You say, voice even.

Even if you quit the team tomorrow, you want to… try. It's strangely hard to get the words out, like the air is a solid thing.

Kuroko's fingers still on the page. "...Then Hana-san may call me by name as well."

You make a face before you can stop yourself. You don't call people by their first names. It just feels like being too close, like opening yourself up.

After you die again, you don't want to take anything with you. Not even their name.

Not even yours.

Mashiro or Ryugawa or Hanako, they don't belong to you, not really. You're borrowing from the people who wanted a child and got you instead.

So, you give your name away like it means nothing - because, in the end, it doesn't. Not to you.

(You feel a pressure building the back of your head. You want to go back to sleep. You want to not have to deal with people apologizing or being nice or … existing in a state where you care what other people think.)

Still. If Kuroko can do it, so can you.

"Fine." You say. "Get me some water, Tetsuya."

Kuroko rolls his eyes. "Hana-san has no shame."

You snort. Of course, you don't.

Kuroko stays another agonizing half an hour. The two of you adjust to the new step in your partnership, stepping gingerly around the conversation. He keeps to his to word. There's no sense of resentment bubbling under the surface.

It's... normal.

Visiting hours are over, so Kuroko takes the stack of finished homework with him, to turn in tomorrow.

You watch him leave and wonder; how long will this last?

Uncertainty - what a strange feeling.

* * *

Eventually you fall back asleep.

It's fitful without someone next to you, more of the dark and numbness. You dream about forgetting everything, everyone. You can't tell if the feeling rising in you is relief or fear.

Then the dark shatters like a vase hurled against the wall, replaced by a familiar sort of awareness. You wake abruptly. Same hospital smell. There's the scratch of starched sheets against your bare legs, the feel of fabric under your hands. You shift, and the ache is gone from your body.

Full recovery. You still feel slow. Thoughts pour across your mind like syrup.

You hold up a hand to examine it. Clean nails. No calluses. These hands belong to some sheltered young miss who's never gotten into a fight in her life.

You don't know them.

"What day is it?" You ask.

"Wednesday. You have slept for an additional thirteen hours."

You blink up at the ceiling. There's that syrup feeling again.

"Akashi?" You ask at last.

A figure leans into the light. His red hair is almost black in the dark room. There's only one light on, and you wonder if it's a generation of miracles thing to be a dramatic fuck, or if you just bring it out in them.

"Pretty sure visiting hours are over," You say.

Akashi gave you a smile, like he's just heard something stupid, but is too polite to point it out. It makes him look homicidal. "You think I can't get anywhere I want?"

You sniff and take the cup of water off the table and take a long drink. You take inventory of your body. Legs, check. Arms, check. You rotate the broken wrist, and only the slightest twinge. You sigh.

This body really is something else.

"Two weeks ago, do you know what I got home to find?" He waits for you to respond and you give him a flat look. He gives you an insincere smile. "A message from Shintarou telling me that you had collapsed."

"Shin-chan, you snitch." You mutter under your breath.

Midorima is weird. You don't remember ever deciding you liked him. You just... did. Maybe it was something left over from your past life. He was funny in his own uptight way. His weird habits, his stupid glasses, his standoffish attitude and defensiveness. He's so easy to make fun of.

You like his selfishness. It reminds you of yourself.

Midorima cares for his friends. You can picture the panic on his face as he leaves a message for Akashi.

Guilt is such an ugly thing. You don't feel it often. You examine it with a clinical eye, stepping outside of your mind to watch it crawl around, trying to find purchase inside of you. It tastes like black licorice and leaves a black smudge over the clear glass of your heart.

"Really, I don't know what Tetsuya is thinking. He should know how to manage someone of your caliber after all his time on the team." " Akashi sighs, all put upon elder brother. "I suppose I was expecting too much. You are much more difficult than Daiki, after all."

"Missed you too, Akashi." You say. "You here for a reason?"

"Of course. Finding out my fiancé was collapsed like that was very upsetting." Akashi doesn't sound very upset and the homicidal smile doesn't change.

You do roll your eyes at him this time. "Not your fiancé."

"We shall see." He says, pleasant. "Nevertheless, you do not seem to be taking proper care of yourself. You are in a worse state now than I left you." Akashi sounds mildly irritated.

He makes it sound like you're a high-strung race horse. "Not actually a child, Akashi. I can take care of myself."

"If you feel like it." He glances around the room. "You so rarely feel like it, Hanako."

You shrug. Not like he's wrong. "What, you think you could do a better job?"

The look he gives you is flat. "Of course - and I will. This can't continue. Don't you think it's time for you to stop being childish and transfer to Rakuzan?"

You can't hide the flicker of surprise. "What, you're _asking_ this time?"

He gives you an almost irritated look. "As you have said, you are not one who does things against your will. The only thing to do is wait out your whims." He sighed. "It's not every day I am willing to compromise like this."

The words might be different, but the expression is familiar. It's like you're seeing double - one Akashi layered over the other.

Is the red eyed Akashi still in there? The Akashi with a wicked sense of humor, who laughed at you more than often than not, who treated something like a friend, not a servant or one of his subjects.

You study his face. Those mismatched eyes stare back at you. Clear as glass.

He raises one eyebrow. "Hana?"

An ache grows in the bottom of your throat. You swallowed it down before it reaches your expression. This Akashi isn't the type you can show weakness toward. It's not like you hate him, but it's still a little like loss. He's not the Akashi you want, but you, of all people, aren't going to tell him he must change.

You're selfish. Not a hypocrite.

You give him a faint shrug. "Nothing. Just a thought."

He studies you for a long moment. "Very well."

You pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around them. "Why are you here, Akashi?"

He has school. He has a tournament. He has responsibilities. There's no reason for him to be here. Not this Akashi.

Not unless there's something he wants.

"You will come with me to Rakuzan." Akashi says.

Unlike the first time, it's not a question.

This is Akashi the emperor.

You tilt your head, study him. There's no smile on his face. He really means it this time.

He came all the way here. To this hospital, to sit by your bedside.

"Hey, Akashi. Are we friends?" You ask.

His face shutters, and he draws back just a bit. Red hair is dark in the faint light. His eyes are suggestions in his face. You can't see his expression.

The quiet draws out. You wait. This isn't' something you can influence. It's outside of yourself and it's almost liberating. Just - asking. Like the question weighed you down and now you're that much lighter.

You've got time.

Finally, he shifts back into the light. His gold eye gleams. There's no smile on his face.

"I would call us friends." He says at last.

You smile. "You wouldn't make me play or help out the team."

"Are you suggesting that my team of handpicked players would need help?"

The thing was, you know that it'd be easy. You still don't like basketball and you doubt you ever will. But you know now, that leaving Seirin would be difficult. You'd regret it.

There's nothing you hate more than the feeling of regret.

He studies you, and you let him. What does he see?

Are you still in there, Akashi?

Right there, somewhere in the back of your mind, you make your choice.

"I'm not going to Rakuzan." You say.

Akashi goes still. "Pardon me?" He says, voice quiet and even. T Here's the Akashi you know, just waiting behind the smile. His gold eye is so bright, and his red eye is so dark.

It's always dangerous around Akashi. Is this the moment he snaps and goes for the eyes? It might end in blood, or it might end in a handshake. There's no way to tell. Even for you.

It's one of the things you like the most about this gold-eyed Akashi.

Normally.

Right now, you're a burnt-out circuit. You feel like sparks, like fade.

He stands. His presence fills the room. It's like slowly being drowned in sand, gold sliding over your skin. His voice is a blade being traced over your throat.

You never doubted the danger this Akashi possessed. There's violence in him that speaks to the violence inside your own head, the part of you that feels pain like a kiss. You shift in the bed, everything coming into sharp focus.

Between you and him, who would win? You're have more experience with fights, but you bet Akashi has a weapon on him somewhere.

You meet his eye without fear.

He's going to have to try harder to scare someone like you.

"Hana, do not be stubborn about this or -"

You smile. "Or what?"

Akashi's eyes are deadly pale. "You will regret this." He says.

There's nothing he can do.

"See you on the court, Akashi." You say.

His smile is long gone, and his hands are a touch too tight. He spins on his heel and walks out of the room.

The door slides shut behind him with a very final click.

* * *

 **Nanowrimo is coming up, so there won't be any updates next month. I'll be working on an original story for the first time in a long time! Wish me luck :]**


	27. XXVII

**this might be full of typos, i had surgery on monday. i'm pretty drugged up, and that's why this is late too. so. you know... be nice, i guess**

* * *

You check yourself out the next day. The blank walls of your room and the endless ticking of the clock were driving you insane, and your cell died sometime last night after Akashi's surprise visit.

Every move feels strange, lagging half a second behind where it should be. You might be slow, but you're still faster than the vast majority of the population.

You'll be fine.

That's what you tell yourself.

(Nijimura is going to be pissed off, but you're willing to shoulder that.

He's your friend, and the thought of talking to him after... everything yesterday feels like sandpaper over a wound. Nijimura is good people, and sometimes he gets this look on his face that says his heart is breaking. Seems to happen every time you talk lately.

You're tired of hurting people.)

Lucky that someone thought to bring a change of clothes to you. A simple black shirt, and pair of jean shorts. Hands in your pockets, hat on your head, it should be enough to throw off the people your dad has around the hospital. Sure, Nijimura said he'd keep it away from him, but you know how hard that is.

You don't want to go home yet. You feel listless, drifting.

A flash of familiar pink out of the corner of your eye. You pause.

Momoi waits in the lobby, hands folded neatly behind her. Her hair is up in a ponytail, and her shoulders are bare in a teal tank top, lace around the edges. It's strange to see her out of school uniform. She's leaning against the wall by the door.

You find yourself unsurprised. Of course she figured out you'd check out today. It's Momoi.

She hasn't seen you yet.

You find yourself heading her way, feet moving without conscious thought. "Momoi."

She gives you a bright smile. "Hana-chan! I was waiting forever."

You tilt your head. Study her. "Sorry." You say, instead of why.

You already know. Momoi takes care of her friends, and always has. Part of what makes her a damn good manager.

Her smile goes softer, and she links your arms together with hers. "Shall we get something to eat? My treat."

She doesn't need to pay for you. In fact, you can't remember the last time someone even offered.

"...Alright." You say.

With Momoi there, you feel less like you're slowly spinning out and more like a you're falling into orbit around her. She's bright, and she laughs like she's never been worried about anything . Her short white skirt spins around her upper thighs. Your bare shoulders brush against hers.

You don't know what's wrong with you. You feel restless.

"Hana-chan are you even listening to me?" Momoi pouts. She still has your arm locked together with hers.

You look down again, give her half a smile. "I'm always listening to you, Momoi."

It's true. Even when everyone else in the world grates, Momoi has a way of making herself less of a chore. You don't understand, and you don't want to think about it too hard.

"O-oh." Momoi clears her throat. You watch red creep up over her delicate ears. She grip tightens. "Good!"

Yeah.

You're good.

* * *

The restaurant Momoi made reservations at is close enough that it takes fifteen minutes to walk there. She lets go of your arm to speak to the waitress and you feel colder. You put your hands in your pockets, say nothing. Content to listen.

She turns and gives you a smile.

The two of you are seated. You order.

It's quiet. Momoi isn't talking. You don't know why.

You're not the kind of person who fidgets, but you sort of want to. The feeling in the pit of your stomach is strange, like something inside you is squirming.

"Did Akashi talk to you or Aomine?" You blurt out. You don't know how to make small talk.

Momoi's brows draw down. "Akashi? He's still up at his school, right?"

You pause. "He... came down to see me. I thought he was going around and checking up on everyone."

Did Akashi really come down to Tokyo just to bring up Rakuzan again?

...On second thought, that does seem like a very Akashi thing to do. Maybe you shouldn't have mentioned it. Momoi is frowning now.

Another long period of silence. The food arrives.

"What did he want?" Momomi asks at last.

You shrug. "Wanted me to go to Rakuzan with him."

Momoi's chopsticks hit the table with a clatter.

You blink.

She stares at you. "He what?"

You shrug. "It's not the first time. He wanted me to come up after Teikou, but he was being an asshole and I already had plans." Not that they worked out, Kuroko.

"And... you said no, right?"

"...Yes?" Confusion is another thing you barely remember feeling. "I already have a school."

"Good." Momoi says, turns back to her food again. She sounds satisfied and vicious, utterly unlike herself.

"Momoi, do you not like Akashi?" You ask. You don't remember any sort of bad blood between the two of them in them manga.

"It's not that I don't like him." Momoi says. "Akashi was a good captain. Most of the time. I don't like the way he treated people. Like tools." She blows a strand of hair out of her face. "He… changed. My captain isn't there anymore."

You remember gold, the way his eyes caught the light. "Yeah. I get it."

Momoi smiles. "Besides, he's a cheater! If anything you should have come to Touou with Dai-chan and me "But I - _we_ like you more."

"Do you?" You ask.

Momoi flushes again, all the way down to her bare shoulders this time.

Your heart kicks up a notch, to the point where you feel against the inside of your chest, beating a tattoo against your ribs. You lean forward, watch her with your head propped up on your hands and don't let her look away.

The moment shatters, glass against concrete. What the hell are you doing?

(You feel like something is breaking on the inside, like you've got something wrong with you. Unbalanced, spinning out of control, to the point that you can't catch your breath.

You want, so you take.

Selfishness.

You have friends. It's still processing.

More people who'll care about you when you die.

You don't know how to feel about that. All those people you can hurt just by existing and Momoi is one of them.

You should feel guilty.

You only want to reach out and _touch_.)

You lean back. "Yeah, I know. You're a good friend Momoi."

Not for taking. Not for someone like you. Nobody else would put up with you, you think. Even Nijimura gets fed up with you sometimes. Even Kise.

Momoi pauses. Takes a deep breath. "Hana-chan, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you - " Momoi hesitates. "Do you like -"

"Satsuki."

You see Momoi freeze out of the corner of your eye. She shuts her mouth with a audible click.

You blink and glance up. Aomine stands there, in the opening of your booth, hands in his pockets. He's dressed casual too, a black shirt and dark blue basketball shorts, a familiar scowl on his face. There's no trace of exhaustion in his voice, no hint of arrogance. He looks like Teikou, but older somehow.

He's watching you, the same way you're watching him. You wonder what he sees.

"Aomine." You say.

"Hana." He says. Then, looking to Momoi. "We talked about this Satsuki. You gotta play the long game."

Momoi scowls. "Don't lecture me, Dai-chan. I wasn't going to be reckless. I'm not you."

He snorts. "Yeah, yeah. Shove over, I'm starving."

Momoi gives him a death stare. "What are you even doing here? I know I didn't tell you where I was going."

"Tch. Like you're hard to figure out." Aomine slides into the booth, forcing Momoi to move or sit pressed together side to side. She begrudgingly moves. "Went to the hospital and Hana wasn't there. Figured you'd taken off with her. Ran into Nijimura." He glances at you. "He's pissed at you, by the way."

You shrug. You can't escape the wrath of Nijimura forever, but hey. That's a problem for future you.

"How did you even find us? Stalker Dai-chan." Momoi asks.

Aomine rolls his eyes. "This is your favorite restaurant. Where else were you going to take Hana? Maji Burger?"

"Stalker." Momoi grumbles, then smiles at you. "You don't mind if he joins us do you, Hana-Chan?"

Aomine never said what he wanted. You met his dark blue eyes, and you know it's on purpose. He's here to talk to you about something.

Later. He mouths, where Momoi can't see.

You shrug. "It's not like you control what Aomine does."

Momoi laughs. "Isn't' that the truth."

* * *

Momoi settles the bill. It's just you and Aomine, standing under the eaves of the restaurant. You stare out, not looking at Aomine. People rush by without paying attention to two high schoolers. There's a part of you that can't understand the point of their busy little lives.

Aomine is quiet. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He looks settled. More comfortable in his skin, not like the boy sneering across the court, but not like the cheerful kid who bugged you for a game every day. Something older and newer at the same time.

"Back at Teikou," Aomine says at last. "Basketball was the only thing that mattered to me. More than people. More than... pretty much everything, really."

You lean back, feel the brick wall against your back and look up at the sky. There's a thick blanket of clouds. Heavy looking, rain carrying.

Sun still shining through in places.

Aomine laughs a little. It's not a happy sound. "Then when that started getting easier, I got scared. I started thinking, what if this is all there is? I saw myself in ten years, winning. No challenges. No reason to keep trying. What would I live for then? It was just me there at the top, and no one else was willing to even try." He looks down at his hands. "Without the rest of the generation, I might have quit basketball for real. The way other teams would look at me - it was..."

"Heavy." You say.

You win and you win and you win, and your classmates would look at you with this _look_. Even your parents, even Kasumi, even Kise.

Sympathy is beyond you still, but you get it.

Empathy, maybe.

"Yeah. Heavy" Aomine says. "After out match, I started thinking. What if it was like that for everything? What if I - I had no equals. Not just in basketball, but in everything I tried. What if people were like that, no matter what I did? What if they just gave up all the time?" He looks up and blue eyes meet yours. "How awful would that be."

You give him a flat, empty smile.

What if you beat him in middle school.? What if you turned out better than him at it? What if there were no limits to what you were capable of?

 _What if, what if, what if._

"Hana." Aomine turns to you and bows, a full, proper bow. " 'M sorry."

You stare at his bowed head. Your hands hang loose at your side. "For what?"

"For being a jerk." He still doesn't straighten up, but you can hear the pain in his voice. "I blamed you for a lot of things. Things that weren't in your control, things that were completely my fault. You're my friend. I shouldn't have treated you like that. Not for any reason. I didn't… didn't get it."

Two apologies in two days. Aomine and Kuroko really were alike.

Unable to look at him bowing, you turn away, back up to the sky. Clouds over sun.

"Don't worry about it." You say, quiet. There was never any need for him to apologize to you, because you never blamed him. No matter what he thinks, you never considered him a friend in the first place. You didn't have any reason to take his actions to heart. "I get it."

He was cruel and you were calloused. Just a bunch of dumb kids, hurting each other. None of you meant it.

He doesn't need forgiveness from _you_ , of all people.

Aomine wears a crooked grin when he straightens. "Yeah. I figured you would."

The sounds of the city drift over the two of you for a moment. You hear a child crying out for their mother. A girl flush with young love, chattering into the phone. Feet splashing in puddles leftover from rain. The air is clean.

(Your hands are empty. You wish you had a camera.)

Aomine breaks the easy silence between you. "You know I'm not like... Akashi or Midorima smart."

"I know." You say, voice bland.

He gives you a half hearted scowl. "Shut up. I have a point. I'm not smart like them, but on the court, I can figure stuff out. About the people I'm playing. Especially the strong ones." Aomine rubs the back of his neck and lets out a long sigh. "You're pretty fucking strong, Hana."

You cross your arms, keep your face the same bored expression. Your feet feel heavy. "And."

"You knew you'd collapse. You knew just how much it'd take out of you."

You pause. Consider lying. A sigh escapes you. "...Yeah. It's a thing, sometimes."

"Why not just say that?" Aomine demands. "At Teikou."

Why? Here, now, standing next a boy you consider something like a friend, you feel exhausted. Think about the shape of your pain. How do you put it into words?

 _None of you were real. Not even Kise. Not even me._

Why bother explaining yourself to a figment of your imagination?

"You didn't listen the first five times I said no. Would you listen to my reason?" You ask in return.

He flinches. Lets out a long breath. "Yeah. I get your point. We were both stupid, selfish kids."

"I'm still a stupid, selfish kid." You say. "I haven't changed."

Aomine studies you. "Hmm. You know, that's not the only thing I got off you when we were playing."

You have a bad feeling. "Please don't say you the words got, you, or off' in any context relating to me ever again."

His eyes scrunch up. "Gross, Hana. Don't change the subject"

"I'm not."

"You are." He sighs. "You hate basketball. It's easy for you, and you don't like easy stuff. So why do it? It's not because of Kuroko's winning personality."

Some truths are too much to have spoken out loud. If the generation were your friends, if they considered you one of them even with all of your... youness, you let them get this far.

Aomine deserves to know.

"I saw it coming." You look past Aomine, to the sky. There's a break in the clouds, showing the sky behind it.

Blue, pale and perfect.

Figures.

"You mean..."

"I saw the team falling apart, and in the end I did nothing. It was easy." You shrug with a nonchalance you don't really feel.

(All it would take was one game to keep them from falling apart. Reel Aomine in.

Maybe Akashi would still laugh silently at you.

Maybe Momoi wouldn't have cried.

In the end you didn't. You wouldn't change, not even for Kise.

You still haven't, not really.

Caring takes up so much energy.)

That's the reason you said yes, in the end.

"It wasn't your fault," Aomine insists.

You shrug again. "I know."

Aomine blinks.

"I was sinking." You say, feeling each word as it leaves your mouth. The truth is a bitter thing. "I didn't… want anything. Like controlling the actions of a video game character. None of it felt real."

None of them felt real. Your entire reality felt like it was one push away from falling apart.

Aomine tilts his head. You can't read his expression. "And now?"

You shrug. "I'm working on it."

"Hey, Hana. You know none of us want you to be miserable, right?" Aomine pauses." Well. Murasakibara, maybe, but who cares what he wants. It's weird when you're not being a strange, spaced out bitch."

"So charming," You say, because it's easier than acknowledging the itch in your eyes. "I bet you have to beat the girls off with a stick."

"Ha ha. The only girl I want is the beautiful Mai-chan."

"Now who's the gross one."

"Don't be mean, Dai-chan. You lose more friends that way." Momoi's scowl vanished as soon as she looked at you. She stepped closer, took her hands in yours. "He is right, Hana-chan. Even if he's a stupid asshole most of the time. We want you to be happy!"

Aomine looked away, a tint of red to his ears. "Just how long were you listening, Satsuki?"

She smelled like - strawberry. Something citrus, like lemon.

Heat, spreading out from her hand on yours. She's speaking, but you can't hear it over the rush of - of something. You feel suffocated. You feel light. Something is building up in the back of your throat, like you're choking. It feels like fear, and nothing like fear at all.

For the first time in your second life, you take a step back. Momoi's touch is light as always, and it takes no effort to break it at all.

"Hana-chan?" Momoi stares at you, hand still raised up. Behind her, Aomine's glances between the two of you.

His eyes narrow.

"Uh." You put your hands in your pockets. "Just remembered something I gotta do for Karou. See you later."

You don't wait for her reply, before you walk away. The back of your neck feels hot.

What the fuck was that?

* * *

You wander, until you can't stand the smell of yourself anymore. The disinfectant lingering on your clothes from the hospital only seems to get worse with time. You want a shower. You want to scrub the last few hours of the day from your brain.

It's normal for teenagers to - to get crushes, or whatever, but you've never been normal in your goddamn life.

Momoi is your friend.

You don't have many of them. Certainly not enough to waste on stupid things like crushes, that fade over time.

Your feet take you home. You've never been this way before, but you've seen maps and it plays out like a gps inside your head. The apartment doorman and front desk recognize you without trouble and you get inside. You've leveled out by the time you get there, pushed back the thought of finding anyone attractive.

It's a pleasant surprise to find only Karou there.

"Hana." Karou smiles, her hair pulled back into a sensible ponytail. "Welcome back. I have dinner ready. Do you want to take a shower before or after?"

And that's it. Nothing about the way Hana didn't say anything about coming home today, or tell anyone where she was going.

You feel a knot inside you come loose. Karou was the right choice. She always feels calm, unobtrusive. Like Kuroko, but you don't have to twist your mind in knots keeping a mental tab on her.

"Shower. I smell like a hospital."

Her smile is sympathetic. "It'll keep until you get done."

A phone rings.

A pause. Your phone is off, so it's gotta be hers.

You make a face. It's absolutely going to Nijimura. You both know it. "Can't you just ignore him."

Karuo laughs and brings the phone to her ears. "No, Hana. Nijimura and I are friends now. We bonded. Hello, this is - yes. Of course. She's standing right here."

You shake your head and make an x with your hands. Do not want.

"Yes, I'll put her on." Karou heartlessly ignored you.

You glower and take back all the nice things you ever thought about her. She just raises an eyebrow and holds out the phone.

Grudgingly, you take it. Karou didn't stop until she got what she wanted. Over the few weeks she's been in your employ, she's gotten much better at dealing with your bullshit. You kinda miss the shy girl you first picked up.

(No, you don't.)

"What." You say, voice flat.

"You know how I said that I wouldn't mention your stupidity to your dad?" You feel the anger rolling off him in waves. "I'm really starting to regret that."

You collapse onto the couch. Ugh. "I didn't say I'd stay in the hospital."

"You promised you'd stop doing stupid things! Checking yourself out, alone, after being in a coma for two weeks is pretty stupid, Hana!"

"I wasn't alone." You say. "Momoi and Aomine picked me up."

"...Really."

"Really. You can even ask them."

"Uh huh. If I ask whether you called them to pick you up, or it was just Momoi being herself again, what would they say?"

You say nothing, just scowl at the city skyline.

Nijimura lets out a long sigh. "Yeah, that's what I thought. You know, I felt bad about this until you pulled a disappearing act. Now I just think you deserve it."

"Nijimura?" That... doesn't sound good.

"Mr. Mashiro figured out something was up. I didn't tell him, but I guess I didn't need to. He called in reinforcements, in his own words."

The doorbell rings.

You cover your eyes with your arm.

"Wich you'd know if you picked up my calls this morning." Nijimura says, voice conversational.

The doorbell rings again.

"Should I get it?" Karou asks.

You think about sinking into the couch and dispersing forever. If you were part of the unknowable ether, you wouldn't have to deal with the stupidity of the world around you.

The thought lacks the bite it normally has. You wave Karou off and heave yourself up off the couch, and trudge to the door. Who exactly would your dad send to check up on you?

He's a smart guy. He'd send someone you wouldn't just kick out. Someone who you wouldn't just reject outright. Someone you could stand to stick their noses into your business. Someone who could actually get you to listen to them.

...That narrows it down.

In fact, you can think of two people, and Kise is busy.

So when you open the door to find Kasumi there, with her long gold hair up in a messy knot and four versace suitcases behind her, you're not exactly surprised. Her clothes cost more than most people made in a month, and her face was achingly, perfectly lovely.

Kasumi looked over the top of her sunglasses, a wicked smile on her face. "Hey little sister. Long time, no see. You look terrible, by the way. Who on earth is dressing you?"

"I'll talk to you later." You say into the phone, not taking your eyes off Kasumi. You close the phone without waiting for his answer. "Kasumi-nee. What are you doing here?"

"Well, when someone didn't come live with me like I was looking forward too, I decided to take a vacation. You know, see what was up. It took a little time to wrap up work, but here I am." She breezed past you like she owned the place. One delicate hand caught you by the sleeve. "So I get home, only to find out from uncle that my darling sister was in the hospital. In a coma."

She leaves her bags in the hallway and drags you behind her like a resigned kite on a string. You're stronger, faster, and pretty much more fit than Kasumi, but she's a person you have trouble saying no to. If Kise felt like the warmth of the sun, Kasumi was the consuming nature of a fire. She has the experience that Kise lacks in commanding people's attention. Overwhelming, without trying to be.

(When you were ten and sleeping over at Kise's house, he confided that he wanted to be Kasumi when he grew up.

You thought there were worse goals.)

Kasumi parks the two of you on the sofa, kicks off her indoor shoes, and puts her legs up over you lap so you don't get any bright ideas about escaping. She smiles at you, but her gold eyes aren't laughing. "So. Hana. What the fuck?"

You sigh inwardly.

"Why are you living by yourself? Why are you fainting? Where the fuck is Kise? He's supposed to take care of you."

"Not a toddler anymore, Kasumi-nee." You rest your hands on her bare legs. Her skin is warm. You're brought back to being four years old in body again, and sleeping over at Kise's house again. Kasumi used to sit you down in front of her and brush your hair, back when it was long.

"Tch. You'll always be a snot nosed brat to me. Seriously, Hana, where is Kise? What have you been doing that put you in a coma of all things?" She shook her head. Off came the sunglasses, the better to look you in the eye. "Attacks like that never happened when you were a kid. Are you getting worse?"

You don't want to talk about this.

"Hana, is something wrong?" Kaoru's voice broke through. You almost forgot about her. She stood in the open doorway of the kitchen. The light caught the near blue highlights in her dark hair. She can't hide the concern in her eyes, the way they flicker from you to Kasumi.

Kasumi jumped, twisting to look over her shoulder. You feel her go still under your hands. "Hana?" She asks.

"Kasumi-nee."

"That's not Kise."

"No, Kasumi-nee." You sigh. "Kasumi-nee, this is Karou, my girlfriend. Karou, my sister, Kise Kasumi."

The sunglasses drop from Kasumi's fingers, and she bolts upright. "Your WHAT?"

You sigh.


	28. XXVIII

You wake up; your hands feel empty. Nothing to hold you down - except Karou is a familiar presence by your side. Her hair is dark against the pillow, and you wonder, distantly, what sort of shampoo she uses. It smells faintly of mint; it fills the room, fills you up with something solid. Gives you a place to stand.

Karou was the right pick, for a fake girlfriend. She kept Kasumi for overwhelming you, because Kasumi was like Kise with less restraint, like a storm, and Karou was a lighthouse on the shore. You don't know how it would have gone otherwise.

Not well, probably.

(You're not a people person, not even for the people who like you most of the time. )

You move slowly out of bed, trying not to wake her. The floor is cold against your bare feet. You still feel far away, like you're trying to reach for something and not quite finding it. You only know that you won't find it by standing still. A strange restlessness overtakes you.

You need to move.

You hesitate over the cell phone on the bedside table. Take it at the last moment, without turning it on.

The apartment is dark. Kasumi is not one of nature's morning people, and she was still jet lagged to all hell.

A little tinge of relief in your stomach. It's not easy, dealing with her, for all that you know her, that you like her more than most people. You're out of practice. She pushes and pushes and _pushes_. Always has. Always will.

It feels different, in this apartment; More grating.

You wonder if it's her that changed, or you.

Probably you.

You slip on your shoes, and leave as quietly as you woke.

You need a break. Time to center yourself.

It's quiet in the morning, for a being in Tokyo. Not many people moving around this early. The restlessness in your bones gets worse, and your hands still feel empty.

You break out into a run.

Feet thumping across the sidewalk, matching the rattle in your chest. You don't need to know where you're going. You just can't stay still anymore. Flickers of thoughts invade your mind, like cloth snagged on burrs. Threads pull out, catch around your heart like a net.

Kuroko apologizing. Aomine apologizing. Akashi visiting.

Momoi's hair, caught in a flash of light that sparked something inside you, something that consumed reason like kindling.

Both your steps and your heart falter.

You shake the image out of your head, keep going.

(Push that last thought away, because there's something too big to name in it. How long has it escaped your notice? How long has it slept inside you like a seed, just waiting for the tiniest bit of water to bloom?

Is it too late to kill it?

Do you want to?)

It's been a long, long week.

You run for an eternity. You lose yourself to movement, keep going until you move fast enough to outrun your thoughts, your doubts, the sucking hole in the back of your head. Each time you find solid ground under your feet it's a reminder that you're not in the dark anymore.

It takes up all of your focus, so you don't notice the way the sky lightens until a touch of warmth on your neck catches you by surprise. You slow down to a jog, then a walk, then a complete stop. Your heart beats. Your lungs expand and contract.

The sun rises. You're the closest to peace you've ever been.

You watch the sun and the skyscrapers, the glowing outline against the pink and purple sky.

It's... beautiful.

(Your hands are empty.

And then they're not.

You blink at the way your phone somehow migrated to your hand. It's powered on.

 _"Why are you punishing yourself?" Aomine asked._

You know why; you realize that you're doing it now.

For some reason, you think of Kuroko and the unimpressed look he'd give you for thinking that you're responsible for anyone's decisions but your own.)

The camera on the phone is top notch, because this is a phone your father built specifically for you. It's not the same as a true professional camera, but you don't think it needs to be. You hover over the shutter button, watch the sun rising up through a screen. Notice how much sharper everything feels.

The sunrise is framed in the right angle. Rising from up behind the buildings like the eye of a giant.

 _Click._

Just like that, you have a sunrise you can keep with you; A sunrise you can carry in your pocket.

A moment passes. Nothing bad happens. It's like letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Unwinding tension. You feel light.

You glance at the phone.

...That's a lot of missed messages. You wince at the many calls from the coach, and just as many from Kagami. Even a few from Kuroko. Plus one from - Midorima?

You contemplate convincing Karou and Kasumi you should all just move to america.

With a sigh, you turn back and let your feet find the way you came. You might not have been paying attention, but your body doesn't really need anyone in the pilot's seat. You glance up at the sunrise, one last time.

Then you turn, gold on your skin, and go back home, lighter than you've felt in a long, long time.

* * *

Karou is up, with breakfast ready when you get back. You feel cleaner, for all that you're actually sweating for once. Breakfast catches your stomach like an undertow and leads you to the kitchen. Kasumi isn't up yet.

Karou looks you up and down, but in the end only smiles. "Welcome back."

You let out a long, inaudible sigh. "Yeah, I'm home."

The two of you eat in content silence - Karou isn't one to chatter on, and words still tire you. When you finish, you join Karou in cleaning up. She gives a tiny smile, and brushes against your shoulder.

"I can stay home from school today, if you want." You glance over your shoulder to Kasumi's guest room. She's not one of nature's morning people, and jet lag is hell on the temper.

Karou laughs and wipes off her hands on a towel. "I'll be fine. She's just worried about you. Even if she's horrible, I've deal with worse people."

You snort. "Kasumi in a snit is than any Yakuza out there."

"I'll be fine. You can't avoid your friends forever."

You let out a long sigh. "It's kinda annoying when you're perceptive."

"Go get dressed, Hana-chan."

You go. If you take a little longer to put on your uniform than normal, Karou doesn't say anything.

* * *

You show up late enough to school that Kagami and Kuroko have no chance to speak. You still feel their gazes on the back of your neck all through class. Easy enough to ignore, due to the fact that you've been glared at in some capacity since you were old enough to toddle along into photography competitions.

You can't put it off forever, though.

The bell rings and Kagami makes a beeline for you. Students part in front of him like a school of fish around a shark. Kuroko trails after him like a leaf caught in the trail of an ocean liner.

Classmates shift away from Kagami when his mouth pulls into a ferocious scowl. "Hana! Where the hell did you _go_?"

You glance at him once. "Your face is scary, Kagami."

He splutters. Incandescent rage turns his face red as his hair.

"Hana-san is right. Kagami-kun should do something about that before he gets detention for being a thug." Kuroko adds.

"Shut up, Kuroko! Like you're not as pissed off as I am!"

Kuroko gives a minute shrug. "Kagami-kun is correct. I am indeed 'pissed off'. But Hana-san is rarely one to react well to being shouted at. One must be blunt and calm as possible. Like so."

Kuroko meets your eyes, face solemn. "Aida-senpai went to visit you in the hospital yesterday, but found out that you'd checked yourself out. You wouldn't pick up your phone, so she had all of us searching for you for hours. We were worried. We had to call Momoi-san to find out where you were. Shame on you, Hana-san." He pauses. "This is a guilt trip, in case I was unclear."

Kagami and you both stare at him.

"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to let people know that you're guilt tripping them, Kuroko." You say.

"You're all so goddamn messed up." Kagami sounds almost admiring. "God, I miss basketball players in America. None of them ever pulled this kind of shit."

Kuroko remains unphased. "Perhaps for someone else. You can be remarkably thick skinned, however; if Hana-san is to get a point, it must be driven in with a hammer."

Your feel your mouth curl up the tiniest bit. "Don't hold back on my account, Kuroko. Keep telling me how you really feel."

Kuroko folds his hands together neatly. "If Hana-san insists. Why did you leave the hospital without telling anyone? It was very stupid. Hana-san scared the whole team. Hana-san could have been hurt, or collapsed again."

You study Kuroko. He's... really trying - to be a better partner. Kuroko, even just a week ago, wouldn't have bothered to ask you anything. So long as you show up to matches and practices, Kuroko wouldn't have cared if you fell off a cliff.

"You can say that again." Kagami ruffles Kuroko's hair. "You would not believe the way the rest of the team reacted. It was like finding a group of chicken with their heads chopped off."

You sigh, lean forward on folded arms. "I don't really... you know that I don't deal well with... people."

"No." Kagami says. "What a shock."

"Truly a surprise." Kuroko says.

"Shut up, I'm explaining." You can't really think of a delicate way of putting this, so. "Akashi showed up."

Kuroko went still.

You shrug. "He gets kinda intense. Wasn't really up to dealing with anyone after that."

"...What did he want?" Kuroko asked. His spine is a string pulled too tight, waiting for the right moment to snap.

You give him a look. "Take a wild guess."

Kuroko sighs. "Akashi-san did always like having the best."

And you are, after all, the best.

"Who the hell is Akashi?" Kagami snaps. Oops. You forgot he was there. "Why do you two always act so cryptic all the goddamn time? Is it some sort of disease? Will you die if you don't confuse me at least once a week?"

Kuroko's stillness shatters like a vase dropped on concrete. He shoots Kagami a faintly annoyed look. "If Kagami were not such a returnee, he would not be confused all the time."

You kinda agree. "Did you just not research on the Generation of Miracles at all?" You ask, because it's been months. It's not like there wasn't information out there. You know because you took most of the pictures that showed up in the articles.

Kagami makes a face. "I have better things to do with my time than research. Like _practice_. It's not like I won't meet the rest of them in the tournament."

You and Kuroko both give him unimpressed look. The combined judgment in your eyes leaves Kagami spluttering again.

"Did Akashi-kun want something?" Kuroko asks, turning away from Kagami.

You shift. Akashi is... odd to talk about. For so long, when you were with him, it was like being inside a bubble. You knew him, more than anyone, because he never had to pretend with you. There wasn't love there, but there was trust, of a sort. You could trust Akashi to be cold, ruthless, and victorious.

Akashi had no qualms about stepping on a few toes just to get what he wanted but you have no weakness - except Kise; Kise who is one of Akashi's people, under his protection. That, combined with the sheer amount of damage you could do, kept Akashi from pushing.

If the two of you went after each other it'd be a mutual destruction.

You don't know how long the tenuous peace will hold.

"He's pretty stubborn." You tell Kuroko, quiet enough that Kagami can't hear over your classmates.

Every time he makes the offer, to come with him, it gets a little harder to refuse. Being a trophy wife for him would be an easy way to spend your life, and trust like that is a hard thing to find.

The bell rings, and Kuroko gives you one last look. "We will be speaking about this, later."

You stare past him, barely listening. You think about gold in eyes, in hair. A sharp pain stabs through your chest. You put your head down on your folded hands and close your eyes.

You wonder what Kise is doing right now.

* * *

Practice is a shit-show from moment one. Riko sees you walking in with Kuroko and Kagami, and her face goes thunder cloud dark. She makes a beeline for you. Hyuuga is the same, following after her. The other members just stand back, watching. None of the others want to be noticed by Riko in this sort of mood.

No one except the familiar grinning face of Kiyoshi. He throws his arm around your shoulder. "Glad to see you up and around. Hospitals are terrible, right?"

You let him, despite how much he smells like a sweaty teenage boy. He can act as bait for Riko's wrath, or you could shove him at the captain to distract him. "Yeah." You say, and ignore the way the rest of the team watches you like you're something fragile.

"You better have the best explanation that I've ever heard." Riko folds her arms. Her eyes are chips of ice.

It'd be scary, if you felt fear. That's still a little beyond you.

"...Not really." You say in the end.

Riko hands twitch violently. You lean back a little, just in case she does try to strangle you. She takes a deep breath, and then another. " _Fine_. I don't know what I was expecting. I don't care if it was a good one or not. Did you have _a_ reason? Any reason at all?"

Her serious tone hits something inside of you like a bell. When was the last time anyone asked you for a reason, instead of just deciding for you?

You can't remember, not really. You scratch the back of your head. Don't know what to say.

In the end, you just go with honesty. "I don't like basketball."

Aida gives you a narrow eyed look, but you can't read the expression on her face.

You take a deep breath. Rubber shoe soles, used too hard. Sweat. Lemon and honey. It wasn't a pretty smell, but something about it settled, deep down in your gut. It grounds you enough to give you a place to start from. "I don't like basketball." You say.

The team looks at you with various expressions on their faces. The freshmen look confused. Hyuuga watches with sharp eyes. Kiyoshi and Aida with blank ones.

You don't look at Kagami. Don't look at Kuroko.

You don't want to know.

"I'm only playing basketball because I owe Kuroko a favor. I don't enjoy," you gesture to the rest of the court. "This."

The pressure to succeed, the drive to win. The drama that followed your tiny group of friends like some sort of monster. It drains you.

You want to sleep and not wake, to drift through life, surrounded by beauty. Barely existing. To capture memories on film, so at least part of you gets left behind the day your body gives out; The day your will does.

Seirin is kind. These people are good people, people who can put up with you. You know from experience that it's a hard talent to come by. You stand in front of them and tell them that you don't think the thing they devote so much of their precious time to is worth it.

"I'm good at this shit. Basketball is... boring. It's boring." You let out a long breath. "I'm only here because me and Kuroko made a deal. After we beat the miracles, I'm done."

(If you could forget your past life, you would.

The realization strikes like lightning out of a clear sky. If you didn't remember the black, would you be happy? Would you be able to love the people around you without feeling like breathing hurt?

You used to wish you were never born.

Now you just wish you were born clean.

Normal.

You envy them.)

A moment of absolute silence. You stares past the team, unwilling to look at their faces, see the resentment taking root there. It was a good run while it lasted.

"That's not all you have to say." Aida says, crossing her arms.

You hesitate. "Didn't really think this far. Kinda expected to be kicked out by now."

Hyuuga stands at Aida's left hand, and Kiyoshi falls into place at her left. It's the first time you've seen them do it but it looks natural, like Aida and Hyuuga were unbalanced before. Aida is more settled in her skin, like a person who has both a lever and a place to stand. Like she could move the world, if she wants.

"No." You fumble for words, push back against the instinct that says they belong to you alone, the part of you that aches. You take another deep breath, keep your face flat. "I can't do another one like the game yesterday _and_ the regular games. I don't have the energy. I'll come to practice. I'll do the drills. I'll keep my promises, but unless there's another Miracle on the team... I won't play."

This time the team reacts. You refuse to look at anyone but Aida. Refuse to listen to the rising voices of your teammates.

You're selfish, and their opinions don't matter.

A dangerous looking scowl spreads over Hyuuga's face. "You don't just get pick and choose your games, you _brat_ -"

Aida holds up a hand, cuts him off without breaking eye contact.

You can feel Kuroko's eyes on the back of your neck. You've never been one to make things easy on yourself, and you're not going to blame him for this. You could have said no. Probably should have.

Meet her gaze, shoulders back. "That's how it's going to be. Take it or leave it."

She narrows her eyes. "Is that a threat, Hana?"

You shrug. "A little bit."

The tense atmosphere breaks when Kiyoshi laughs. Everyone turns to look at him.

Hyuuga's face resembles a thunderstorm in human form. "What the hell is wrong with you, asshole? None of this is funny!"

Kiyoshi holds up his hand, surrenders. "Sorry, sorry. You're funny, Hana."

"Basketball is about playing as a team, and we can't do that if one of our best players is refusing to play half the matches we have left!" Hyuuga growls.

"Well, Hana said it herself - she doesn't like basketball. If she wanted to quit, she'd just do it." Kiyoshi smiles and throws his arm around your shoulders. "She's negotiating, after all."

A hush falls over the room, and you realize that he's right.

You... don't want to leave. Seiren is easy to deal with most days; they're good people. A soft place to land when you can't stand having anything brush against your skin.

So you're negotiating.

You don't know what your face looks like, but Aida takes one look at you and all the fight goes out of her. "You won't budge on this."

"No, coach." You say.

"You're a pain in the ass, Hana."

"Yes, coach. Sorry, coach." It's even true. You wouldn't want to be responsible for you either.

She runs a hand through her hair. Then her mouth firms into a familiar line; one that says she'll get her way come hell or high water. "Anyone not practicing when I turn around next will get a taste of my special training course!"

Like magic, the team went back into working on their drills, including Kagami. Kuroko stays at your side, quiet as a shadow.

When Riko turns her attention back to you, it's like a ten ton weight being set down. You inch back behind Kiyoshi a little, in spite of yourself. He lets you and you immediately mark him down as your favorite senpai. "That includes _you_ , Kiyoshi."

Kiyoshi raises his hands in surrender and vanishes too. Betrayal of the highest order. You glare at Kiyoshi's retreating back, but he only shrugs.

So much for being your favorite Senpai.

Aida crosses her arms. "As for you," She looks you over. "Kiyoshi said you were willing to negotiate - so let's negotiate."

For a split second, you hesitate.

"Kuroko needs to be there too." You say. He's trying to be your shadow, for real. He needs know what your play style is going to be like - and you want him there. Aida is hard to deal with.

Kuroko will make a decent buffer.

He gives you a glance, and you widen your eyes at him. Who's thinking about throwing him to Aida's not existent mercy? Certainly not you. That would be cruel.

"Of course, Hana-san." Kuroko says, dry as a dessert.

Aida jumps. "Jesus! Kuroko, don't do that."

He blinks slowly.

"He was standing here the whole time." You say, because how could you resist?

Aida rubbed her forehead. "Whatever. Let's get this over with."

* * *

 ***waves* hey i'm alive. the surgery went well, and i'm no longer on strict bed rest. Sorry for the long hiatus, but it was really, really necessary. my writing went down the drain while on my meds and it was painful to look at.**

 **but were back on schedule so there shouldn't be any issues** **anymore *thumbs up emoji***


	29. XXIX

Aida takes the two of you to a room covered in paper - various printouts of team rosters, a wall calendar showing off famous American players covered in cramped handwriting, a few playbooks stacked on top of a worn out table.

Aida takes a seat behind the desk. "Sit."

You do. Kuroko stays quiet beside you, more shadow like than ever.

The sound of the lazy ceiling fan turning fills the silence. Finally, Aida lets out a sigh. "There's nothing wrong with your body. In fact, I know that because you have ridiculous stats. I've seen grown men with less than half the ability and talent you have, plus you can do more training with less effort than anyone on the team. So." She leans back in her chair. "Why the hell did you collapse?"

You - hesitate. How do you put it into words, the slow erosion of the will to live; your wish to stop and not go on. How sometimes, your brain just shuts down on your body, because it's just... too much.

You don't have the words to talk about the inside of your head.

"Kise-kun said it might be some sort of sensory overload," Kuroko says, barely audible over the fan.

You glance at him. He talked to Kise - when you were unconscious?

It feels a little strange, to know that people are talking about you when you're not there. Like your body is pushing down on you, a little more solid.

It's... heavy.

He meets your eyes with a little shrug.

It's as good an excuse as any; not technically a lie, nor a truth. You turn back to Aida. "Yeah. Something like that. My brain doesn't turn off or zone out. Wherever I am, I'm there. I notice everything. You got a haircut in the last couple of days, fixed a few split ends. Kuroko had miso and rice for breakfast. Kiyoshi still has a limp. Our English teacher is having an affair with the science teacher."

It never ends. It's noise, and movement, so bright you just want to cover your eyes and ears and sleep forever. The world is big and dark and grey and you can't ignore it.

One of the reasons you liked photography so much. It gave you focus. Gave you a place to stand, to stop the world from dissolving into noise.

Aida glances between you and Kuroko. Her eyes narrow. "That's how you can see Kuroko."

"Yeah."

You don't know what she's thinking, only that she's thinking hard. Kuroko is quiet beside you, and you don't know what to think about the fact that you feel more settled to see his ice blue hair bowed out of the corner of your eye.

You don't like him. Maybe you never will.

You trust him, though.

He apologized. He's trying to do better. Be a better shadow. You remember how he was with Aomine, and you think, maybe you can trust him to guard your back.

Finally, Aida let out a sigh. "You really can't play in most games, Hana?"

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Relief tastes like inhaling sweet morning air, comes with the feeling of the fist around your stomach coming loose. You don't realize how tense you are until your spine relaxes, your body sinking into its typical sprawl.

"No," you say.

Aida rubs her forehead with both hands. "Alright. Fine. I'll take a look at our strategies and formations, but fine. I, as your coach, can't ignore your mental health for the sake of winning. But," She glares. "That doesn't mean you're allowed to skip practice. I expect you here every single day, alongside the team. I can't give you any more leeway than that. Do you understand?"

"Yeah." You say. Practice was no big deal. You could do it in your sleep. You actually have a few times, though you're not stupid enough to say any of that to her. She might decide to triple your workload or something.

"Good." She gives you another look, one that's softer, more concerned. "Tell me if things are getting bad again. Is there anything I can help you do to get this under control? Do you use medication?"

You blink. You don't know the last person who asked you that. Maybe no one ever has - even your parents never really gave it that much thought. That's on you, probably. Not like you asked for help.

"Uh. No. I just sleep until I stop feeling like shit, I guess. Dark rooms, noise-canceling headphones." You shrug, but it feels tight. "There's nothing anyone can do."

Aida studies you. "You mean there's no one who's bothered."

You don't know how to respond to that, so you don't.

With a sigh, Aida stands up, reaches over the table and puts her hand on your head. You're surprised enough to let her. She gives you a smile, but there's an emotion you can't read in her eyes. It sends a ripple through the darkness inside you.

You swallow, and it's difficult.

"If you need help, don't hesitate to ask," Aida says. "It's my job to keep you safe and healthy. I can't let anyone hurt my players, not even themselves. Okay?"

You nod; one bare jerk of your head; not even enough to dislodge her hand. You can't find your voice.

"Good." She pushes up from the desk, with a sigh. "Now I have to go break the news to Hyuuga. And probably stop him from killing Kiyoshi. God knows what the two of them are up to when I'm not there. Kuroko," she says, gives him a stern stare. "Keep an eye on her."

"Yes, coach." He sounds sincere.

"Excellent." She leaves the room.

"I can take care of myself." You say under your breath. Kuroko gives a judgmental look.

Tch.

You lean back into your chair, feel the creek of old wood underneath you. You think you're glad. Glad that Aida is the one in charge. She has a spine made of titanium. Nothing will ever make her bend. If Akashi had an Aida to hold him back, balance him out, maybe it wouldn't have crashed down -

It's in the past. Nothing you can do about it now.

Kuroko is the one to break the silence. "Hana-san did not quit."

You look up at the fan; watch its lazy circles. "I promised."

A pause. "You did."

Neither of you breaks the quiet. It's something that you notice with Kuroko. There are distinctive tones to his silences. You can tell an angry silence from a judging one, a strange one from a sad one.

This one though - this one, you don't know how to read. You don't try. You feel like you're looking down on yourself from above. The room is warm. You feel quiet inside your head; light, like you, just put down something heavy and are only just now noticing the weight of it.

"Back in Teikou," Kuroko says at last and you realize your eyes closed. "Hana-san was always around people. I expected something similar in Seirin. Instead, Hana-san does not speak to the other members of the team. Only to Kagami-kun and myself. It is... strange to see Hana-san alone so often."

You glance at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Kuroko's mouth is flat. "Kise-kun rarely left Hana-san's side. Akashi-kun was much the same way. Hana-san was always surrounded by admirers in Teikou. People feard you, but also… admired you."

Ah.

From that point of view, you can see where Kuroko is coming from. He only ever saw you on the basketball court or at lunch - you made sure of it. You spent those years avoiding the basketball team like they had the plague, never around more than one of the Generation at a time.

"Hana-san was never overlooked. Hana-san had the talent that I desperately wanted." Kuroko's spine is straight, hands folded in his lap. "I was... terribly jealous of Hana-san. Hana-san has so much already - I thought you were selfish for keeping Ki - my team's attention. I blamed Hana-san for things that were not her fault. I was frustrated with myself."

Keeping Kise's attention, he was going to say.

You fold your hands behind your head. "Yeah. You and everyone else." Then the meaning behind his words hits. "You were doing it on purpose. Keeping Kise away from me."

And this quiet is familiar, like something ice cold pressed against your neck. It brings back the memory of Kuroko's bowed head. Kuroko is ashamed. He says nothing.

It's answer enough.

For one moment, your anger surges. It crawls up your throat, pounds against your teeth, trying to pry open your jaw and tear Kuroko apart. You think about the empty apartment, the shift of shadow in the sleepless night, the way you wandered the city. Restless. Alone.

(People hate you or they fear you or they envy you. They avoid you after a few weeks anywhere. When was the last time anyone just - stayed around you, because they wanted to?

Never.

Akashi wanted your talent. Nijimura felt he owed you, no matter what he said. Your parents treated you well because you were their daughter. Aida saw you as a part of her team and took care of you the same way she maintained a piece of gym equipment. The less said about Kuroko the better. Even Kasumi only treated you as a little sister because of Kise.

Nobody is ever there, just because.

Except for Kise. You had Kise.

For a while.)

Breath in. Breath out. Let it go.

It's not like you've never been jealous before. You remember looking at Kuroko and the way your brother turned towards him like a flower to the sun. You remember violence bubbling under your tongue.

Kuroko is only human.

"What are you asking, Kuroko?"

"When will you speak to Kise-kun again?"

You still. "He hasn't called me."

"Hana-san is the one who left. Perhaps Kise-kun is waiting for you to make the first move."

I left because of you.

You think the words, but don't say them.

Kuroko is trying. You can too.

You stare ahead at the wall, paying no attention to the words on them.

"Perhaps Hana-san should think about reaching out." His mouth pulled up the slightest bit, but his eyes were rueful. "Kise-kun will always wait for Hana-san. He loves Hana-san more than anyone. No one else can compare."

"I'll think about it." You say, and nothing else.

Kuroko nudges your shoulder, gentle. The two of you sit together in Aida's office for a long time.

* * *

Hyuuga stops glaring after a week; it helps that Kiyoshi is around full time, acting as a distraction. He's a weird guy, Kiyoshi. He'd fit right in around the Generation of Miracles. Might be why you feel less like he's grating on your nerves when he talks, comparatively.

You and Kuroko don't talk about Kise again. You also don't call him.

It might be fear, that stills your hands. You don't remember how being afraid felt, but if you could, it might be like being thrown out into the snow, the first shock of cold.

The peace doesn't last. The end comes with a phone call, just after evening practice. You're in the locker rooms, listening to Kagami talk about some sort of game he watched on TV last night. Basketball of course. Kuroko is enthralled.

Basketball morons, the both of them.

You look down at your ringing phone. It's not Nijimura. You don't recognize the number, in fact.

You answer it. "Hello?"

"Hana-chan?"

You blink. "Momoi?"

How did she get your number?

...Right. It's Momoi.

Kuroko breaks off his conversation and looks at you, a question in his eyes. You shrug.

"Is something wrong?" You ask.

"Um. Sorry to call this late, but can you come to the stadium? It's - well." She sighs. "It's Haizaki. He showed up to harass Kise-kun."

You raise your eyebrows. "Haizaki?" There's a name you hadn't heard about in a while.

Why did she sound so worried? It was just Haizaki.

Now you have Kuroko's full attention. He sits up straighter, face solemn. Haizaki and Kuroko never got along in Teiko, so you don't blame him for not being happy about it.

You're not happy about it either.

"I'll be there." You say. You shut the phone without waiting for a response, then dial Nijimura while pulling your shirt on over your head.

He answered on the first call. "Hana? What's wrong? You never call me."

"Need a ride." You say, pick up your bag, and head out of the gym. "I'm still at school."

Kagami and Kuroko follow you like lost puppies, and you raise an eyebrow at them. Kagami shrugs. "I don't have anything better to do."

You roll your eyes and elect to ignore them. "Haizaki showed up."

"Really?" Nijimura asks. "Fuck. Hana, please don't go beat the hell out of him. You're definitely going to get arrested one of these days, and then your dad is going to blame me."

You roll your eyes. "Even if I did get arrested, I'm richer than god, and my moms a lawyer. I'd get a slap on the wrist." Besides. Wasn't like Haizaki, of all people, was worth your time in the first place. Kuroko's words rattle around your head like marbles in a glass jar.

Nijimura sighs. "Please don't say that where any cops can hear you. They might take up the challenge."

"Who is she talking to?" Kagami whispers behind you. You don't hear Kuroko's reply.

"The car is on its way. It'll be there in five minutes."

That was... suspiciously fast. You narrow your eyes. "Are you just keeping a car nearby?"

An embarrassed silence.

"That's pretty creepy, dude."

"Look, it wasn't my fault. If you wanna blame anyone, blame your overprotective dad! He mopes." Nijimura snapped. "Speaking of that pain in my ass, he told me to tell you about a family dinner next week. Your mom is back in town, and he wants you there."

Your steps falter, just a bit. You have dinner with your parents because that was part of your deal. They were both busy people though and rarely in the same place at the same time.

They knew that together they sent you spiraling faster than just alone.

It was easier that way.

If it was both of them together...

"Is something wrong?" You ask.

Nijimura makes an unhappy sound. You can hear the creak of an office chair in the background. "I don't know. Your old man's been acting... weird. He distracted. It's not just him missing your mom or you. It's weirder."

Cold creeps up the back of your neck.

(Is this the moment your parents give up on you? Your stomach twists in on itself; you feel dizzy for a moment like a world has taken off spinning and left you standing in one place.

The pit in the back of your head shivers, gaping like an open wound.)

"Sure." Your voice comes out steady; bored and bland as always. Your chest feels tight.

It's been a couple of months since you've seen your mom.

"Hana?" Kagami asks. "What's wrong?"

You sigh. "Don't worry about it."

A Bently rolls up and cut Kagami off. It's a slick black machine, black and gleaming under the streetlights. Even the tires seemed to shine.

"Holy shit." Kagami's eyes go wide. "This is your ride? Hana, how fucking rich are you?"

You shrug. "Very."

* * *

You spot Momoi in the crowd almost instantly. Her pink hair looks closer to red in the setting sun. A cold breeze blew through the streets, ruffling posters and tugging at clothes. Her skin looks like porcelain.

Momoi smiles at you, but it doesn't hide the crease of worry between her eyes. "Hana-chan. Kuroko-kun." She pauses. "Kagami-san."

You put your hands in your pockets, where they won't cause any trouble. "Yo."

"Good evening, Momoi-san," Kuroko says.

"Momoi," Kagami says.

Momoi tucks herself under your arm. You frown. She's freezing.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" You ask. Touou didn't have a game today. You glance around. "Where's Aomine?"

No way he'd let her go to the place that had Haizaki in it without him. Unlike you, Momoi isn't one of natures fighters.

She makes a face. "He wandered off the second we got here. Who knows where he is by now." She glances over your shoulder at Kagami and Kuroko, and steps closer to you.

You decide not to think about it. "Let's go find Kise."

"Not Haizaki-kun?" Kuroko asks.

"Haizaki's predictable. If Kise's around, Haizaki will show up like the cockroach he is."

"I'm sensing some hostility. What the fuck did this guy do to piss you off?" Kagami asks.

You glance over at him, eyebrows raised. "Please. Haizaki is barely worth the air it takes to say his name. If I'm pissed off, you'll know."

Momoi leads all of you straight to Kise because of course, she knows where he is.

"Hana-san was right," Kuroko says. He looks murderous, under the normal blank face.

Haizaki has Kise backed up into a wall, a leer on his face, on arm around Kise's shoulder. He's almost complacently pressed up against Kise, body to body. "-Now that you don't have anyone to hide behind, Ryuota, we can have a nice chat. Just us Miracles."

Kise looks ready to break Haizaki's arms but his smile is the same blinding light it always is. "Akashicchi kicked you out, Haizaki. That makes you not one of us anymore."

Haizaki's bares his teeth. "What, you're still riding Akashi's dick, Ryouta? Unlike you, I grew out of thinking my middles school captain was the person who made the laws -"

"Usually am." You say to Kuroko. "Kise."

Kise's eyes go wide, the murderous part of vanishes faster than a blink. "Hannachi!" He says.

Haizaki freezes, the leer falling off his face. He whirls around, catches sight of you. A flicker of black hate fills his eyes. It's almost a relief to have that familiar, caustic emotion trained on you. All the softness around you lately could make a girl confused. "Guess you came along to sniff after Kise's dick like a dog in heat, bitch?"

"Yo, what the fuck?" Kagami starts.

You walk forward and cut him off, hands in your pockets.

Haizaki takes one step back for every step you take forward until his back hits a wall. You don't stop, until just inches away from his chest. He's got at least a foot on you. You keep your hands in your pocket and look up at him.

Haizaki's lips curl up in a sneer. "Did you come to get a good look at your boyfriend losing? I thought you dropped him like the piece of shit failure he months ago."

You feel Kuroko's anger, glacial, on the back of your neck. He's a quiet guy, but you know he's not a nice one. You notice Kise look down out of the corner of your eye, the way his fists shake. These kids, upset at Haizaki like he was something to worry about. Look at him, so sure of himself. Backed up against the wall, and still spitting shit. You can almost admire it.

You smile. It's not a nice one. It's almost funny - like you have so many worries that _Haizaki_ would be one of them. "It'd be funny to watch Kise grind you into the dirt. Unfortunately, he has a game and no time to deal with trash like you."

It takes a moment to register. Then Haizaki lunges, one fist raised. "You bitch!"

Like a viper, you strike his chest, slam him back against the wall. His head cracks against the brick. His heart jumps under your palm like a frightened rabbit.

"Fuck off, Haizaki." You say. "This is your last warning."

"Or what?" He snarled.

You smile again and take a step back. You shrug. Coach made you promise to keep out of trouble, but _Haizaki_ doesn't know that. After all the times you fought him, he knows that you're better than him in every way.

His face pales. He swallows hard and starts to inch around you towards freedom. You let him. He looks over his shoulder at you then at Kise and Kuroko watching him with dark eyes.

Haizaki fucks off.

You dismiss him from mind and turn to Kise. "...Hey."

He stares at you and you can't tell what he's thinking. "Hey."

* * *

 **hey guys sorry for the update hiccup. i got super sick in january for two weeks straight and then i got busy for the rest of it. life just be like that sometimes.**

 **everything is up and running now tho *thumbs up emoji***

 **if you only follow this story i just posted a new bleach fic called Bad Bad People (Don't Live In our House), and it's a fake married oc/aizen fic, because i'm a sucker.**


	30. XXX

Momoi takes the boys with her when she goes, leaving you and Kise alone in the empty hallway. It's a dead end om one side. There's a sad-looking potted plant, a bench, and a vending machine. You sit on the bench, and Kise stands opposite you, leans against the wall.

You look at Kise. Whatever Haizaki said to rattle him, he's recovered. He stands straight, arms folded. He's taller. You can't figure out what he's thinking. There's a silence you can't break. You feel your shoulders draw up, tension rising from your stomach.

Fight or flight. You'd fight, but it's Kise. You don't want to hurt him.

This is awful. Emotions are horrible; caring is nauseating. You didn't have a plan when you told Kuroko you'd think about talking to Kise. You can figure out the words to start.

 _How have you been? How is your team? Kuroko might be in love with you; you should do something about that?_

You don't say any of that. Instead, what comes out is: "Don't you have a game?" You don't wince, but it's a close thing.

Kise's shrugs. "It can wait."

And nothing else.

Why is this so _hard_? It feels like you're scrabbling against a glass wall with Kise on the other side. You can see him, but your voice won't reach.

...This conversation is a bad idea.

You glance down the hallway, looking for Kuroko. Maybe you just missed him? It's a vain hope. Momoi took him, and you have no one to distract Kise. You hear a whistle from far away. "You're going to get in trouble. You should go. We can talk after - "

Kise scowls at you. "No; Hanacchi is more important."

The words roll over you like a wave, pulling your head under into confusion. Kise loves basketball like Kuroko does, maybe _because_ Kuroko does. It borders on obsession.

"Hanacchi," Kise's voice is hard, angrier than you've ever seen him. "Why is that a surprise?"

"Well," Your mouth says without any advice from your brain. "You kinda ditched me for the last two years of Teikou because you joined the basketball team. So yeah. It's surprising."

"I ditched you? _I_ ditched _you_?" Kise snapped. "I'm not the one who ran away like a child! You just left and didn't tell anyone for months. You left your phone behind! I didn't even know you were alive!"

You glare right back at him. "How long did it take you to notice I was gone?"

He flinches.

You laugh, a tiny mean thing. "Yeah, I thought so. Too busy trying to get Aomine and Kuroko to notice you? By the way, your taste in men? Terrible. God-awful. The worst two options on the team!"

Kise flushes. "Like you have any room to talk! You dated Akashicchi!"

"What's wrong with Akashi?"

"We watched a documentary on serial killers, and he called it 'quaint' Hanacchi!"

Distantly, you realize that you're off the bench and up in Kise's face. Your face feels hot, and your thoughts shimmer like concrete in a heat wave.

You don't like him insulting Akashi, but you can't argue. Instead, you scoff. "Like 'The only one who can beat me is me,' and Mr. Embarrassing Shadow Metaphors are any better!"

Kise is nearly maroon at this point, nothing like the pretty, natural blush he shows to the cameras. He's red to the tips of his ears and offended with it. "W-well - you're stupid!"

There are a thousand words you could say, to tear Kise down, point out all his flaws and failures. You could _shred_ him.

Instead, you reply, like a five-year-old: "No, you're stupid!"

"No, you!"

"No, _you_!"

And that's when Kise lunges at you.

It's not a fight. Kise, for all his club hopping, will never be a brawler. It's more of a wrestling match with a bit of hair pulling thrown in, and for once, you're not fighting for the sake of it. Your mind buzzes, irritation settling into your bones at your stupid, idiotic brother.

You put Kise in a headlock and noogie him until he eels his way out, leaving his jacket in your grip. He retaliates by tackling you to the ground with, knocking your breath out of your lungs. The fight gets dumber from there.

When your mind clears, you stare up at the fluorescent lights, eyes stinging. You're on your back, on the floor. The linoleum feels sticky, and your skin crawls. Even so, you don't move. People roar and cheer somewhere far away, and you think about breathing, about what brought you to this point.

You're a genius seen once in a hundred years. Your parents are filthy rich and love you. You own a penthouse apartment. You... are lying on your back after getting into an incredibly stupid fight with the closest thing you have to a brother. It's the most childish thing you've ever done - including your first life when you were actually a child. You can feel Kuroko judging both of you from the ether.

Beside you, half draped over your body, Kise sighs. You wait, but he doesn't say anything. He seems content to listen to the hum of the vending machine, to exist at the moment. Your irritation recedes.

"I'm starting to suspect I don't make the best choices," You say.

Kise snorts, and he sounds as tired as you feel. "No kidding."

You can't breathe for a split second, your ribs squeezed out of the way to make room for the feeling welling up from your gut. It's warm and suffocating, like being smothered in Nigou's fur.

You missed Kise.

"I'm sorry," You say.

The words expand to fill the hallway.

You screw your eyes shut. "I'm sorry for disappearing. I'm sorry for not saying anything about joining Kuroko's team. I'm sorry I changed my name without telling you. I'm sorry that I called you stupid and said your taste in men was terrible. Aomine is... well. Kuroko's not that bad. You could've picked _Murasakibara_."

Kise lets out a ragged laugh. "You still hate him."

You reach out blindly and catch Kise's wrist in a loose circle between thumb and pointer finger. They don't quite reach around. He's growing up, changing; leaving you behind.

"He's the worst." You say.

(A thought: Why can't you catch up to him?)

(The idea doesn't quite reach the surface of your mind. It's still too early for you, half dead and resentful about not being all the way gone.

It's a seed, though. It's potential.)

Kise's wrist trembles in your grasp. It's the only warning you get before the tremor spreads over the rest of his body. You look over. He's got one arm pressed over his face, but it doesn't hide the way his shoulders shake.

Your mind blanks. "Are you crying." It doesn't come out a question.

Kise's one of the least emotional people you know, despite his happy go lucky attitude. Tears are just an avenue of manipulation. He complains to gain sympathy, to trick adults into getting what he wanted, he cries crocodile tears when the rest of the Generation is mean, makes a production of himself without shame. You can count on one hand the times Kise actually cried. Kise loves attention like Akashi loves control.

This isn't that. This is something worse.

Sincerity.

Kise doesn't make a sound as he cries. His mouth screws up. "I'm not; shut up."

You sit up. "Why are you crying?"

He scowls but kept hiding his face. He rubs his eyes, but it didn't protect the red around them or the way he sniffles. "I don't know what you're talking about. Stupid Hannacchi."

Your hands hover over him, but you don't know what to do with them. Yeah, you make people cry regularly, but you don't care about any of them. You and Kuroko have been working well together lately. He might kill you if you make Kise cry. What makes _you_ feel better?

"Do you want me to beat something up?" You ask.

"No," Kise says, voice thick.

And you're out of solutions. What makes people you reduce to tears feel better?

"Do you... want me to go? I can go. Please stop crying."

"No!" Kise shot up and grabbed your shirt in a white-knuckled grip. You stop trying to stand up. "Don't leave."

You hold up your hands. "Okay, Okay. I'll stay here. On the floor. Watching you cry."

Kise lets out a wet laugh. "You're bad at this, Hanacchi."

"Yeah," You say. Truth. "Sorry."

Kise sniffles again. He has a death grip on your hand. "I'll accept your apology, on one condition." He says.

Your heart jumps.

Kise's expression is firm in a way you've never seen before. He's growing up, you think.

"Call me by my first name," Kise says.

Your brain kind of - skips, because that came out of nowhere. You open your mouth and close it, feel your brows draw down. "What?"

"Hanacchi," Kise looks up at you. "You never call anyone by their first name. Why?"

"I do so."

"Who?"

"Shin-chan."

Kise gives you a half-hearted pinch. "That doesn't count. It's not even his real name, and you only do it to annoy him. I mean everyone else."

You can hear the question he's asking, underneath it all.

Why don't you call Kise by name?

The tile is cold under your hands. Your stomach falls away from your body, and your mouth feels dry.

You can't bring yourself to tell Kise.

It's a promise you made yourself when you realized _where_ you were. You won't get close. You won't let any of them be real. Last names are safe. Formal. You don't have to deal with them being people. You can keep you and them in separate categories.

When you leave for the black, you'll lose them.

When you go, you want to make it painless. You want no grief, no joy. You want to vanish like mist in the light of the sun. On good days, you want peace. On bad days, you want oblivion.

Kise is like the sun, and he loves you. That's not fair to him.

You find that you care about that.

You sit there, let the silence stretch out. There's nothing you can give him that doesn't sound insane.

 _Sorry, I can't think of you as important to me because I failed hard at reincarnating? Sorry, nothing feels real, and I barely stand my heartbeat? Sorry, until I was ten years old, I thought this life was a daydream?_ _Sorry, it represents getting too close to something I planned to leave behind? Sorry, the thought of your name is a mouthful of glass?_

Kise's mouth goes tight. He sighs. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"You should go to your game," You say. Kise doesn't need you around. You were right to leave, and right to stay gone. At least you don't' care if you cause Seirin pain, not yet. Too selfish, too distant. If it were anyone else, you'd leave them without a moment of regret. It's not anyone else, though. It's Kise. You wait for _him_ to leave.

He leans forward instead, hides his face in your shoulder.

"Why did you leave?" Kise whispers.

Your hands hover for a second, before gently resting at the small of his back, his spine under your hand.

You think about the last days of Teikou. How numb you were, how little you wanted anything but to lie down and sleep forever. Time pushed down on you — and in thinking about how tired you were, you realize how tired you're not.

You feel panicked and jittery from Kise's tears, but other than that you feel okay. Better than you've felt in years.

You don't feel _great;_ just okay.

Maybe that's why you tell Kise the truth.

"I...was upset," You say.

Kise stills against your shoulder. It doesn't even feel like he's breathing.

You look up at the ceiling. The words are hard to force past your teeth. It feels like you're peeling up the skin on your chest to give Kise a look at your heart, the small, worst parts of you. Kise's pulse is loud under your fingers.

It's a reminder that you, too, are physical - a thing to be seen and judged, existing outside of your little world.

"When you joined the basketball team, you found a place to belong. I didn't have that. I was alone for a long time, and you just got farther away. I was angry."

"I wanted to leave because," you say under the hum of electricity, the beat of your heart. You can't look Kise in the face. His gold hair in the corner of your eyes is bright, familiar. It's too much like you're a kid again and looking at the two of you side by side — you a void, him a sun. "People are exhausting. Even ones I like."

Kise's grip tightens, sends little bursts of pain up your arm. You don't look at him. You don't do anything reach for the next word. If you stop now, you won't start again. This is your only chance.

"I don't feel real most of the time." It's the first time you've said those words out loud. They hit the air, shiver like something being born. The hallway seems darker with that part of you on display. "Nothing does."

You look at Kise and wish you hadn't. He's staring at you with wide, wet eyes. These tears are different, though. Fat droplets roll down his cheeks, silently melting into your shirt and you know you've hurt him again. His grip bruises, like he's afraid you'll vanish if he lets go. You should've stayed away, promise to Kuroko or not. Kise said it: You suck at this. Your emotions are afterthoughts, fireworks, there and gone again, when other people were like rivers.

You pull your sleeve over your hand and wipe his face. "Sorry." You say though you don't know what for. You've apologized more in the last hour than you have in your entire life.

"So am I," Kise says. His voice is firm despite the tears in his eyes. He wipes his face. "I didn't realize. Hanacchi, you are _real_. I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it. This is real."

To be seen is awful, to be known is terrifying. Fear crawls down your throat and dies there; its corpse makes it difficult to swallow. You can't breathe through it.

You tug, but Kise holds fast, keeps you close.

"Call me by my first name," Kise says.

And this is the request that trips you up. You love Kise, as much as you can anyone.

A moment passes. "Alright."

Kise blinks. "Really?"

Your nod is sharp and quick. Like you're afraid of being caught doing something you shouldn't. The feeling irritates you. Fuck that.

There's nothing you can't do.

"Ryouta." You say, and the word fits in your mouth awkwardly. It's heavy.

(It's too late now.

You love him, have for years. If anyone is real to you, it's him.

Maybe you can change.)

"Don't disappear again," He says, and it's a request, a plea, and an order all at once. His eyes burn gold. His grip feels like a brand.

Your lungs contract, expand. Fear subsides like a wave from the shore.

"Okay," You say because it's Kise asking. "Okay."

A smile breaks on Kise's face like the sun over the horizon. You've never seen him so beautiful - red-rimmed eyes, snotty nose and all.

You find your hands reaching for a camera quick as a snake - but you still haven't' replaced it. You grab your phone instead.

 _Snap_.

Kise is left blinking in a flash. He looks at you. "Delete that."

You hold the phone up and away from him. "I will not."

"Delete it this instant, Hanacchi, I look disgusting!"

You stick your tongue out at him. "I'm gonna send it to everyone we know.

Kise - Ryouta - makes an outraged sound and lunges for you again.

* * *

Kise's - Ryouta's - Senpais gather him up, after the whole conversation. They find the two of you sitting on the bench with drinks from the vending machine that Kise bought. He sulks over losing your scuffle. He's taller now, but you're meaner. You uphold your position as the alpha sibling.

They're furious. Kise missed the entire game.

"You won, though," Kise says in a particularly obnoxious tone.

You know from the looks on their faces Kise is dead. You pat his hand. "You'll be missed."

He gives you a betrayed look. "You won't defend me, Hanacchi?"

"I think, as your sister, I'm obligated to point and laugh,"

Wakamatsu drags Kise away by his ear, giving you dirty looks all the way. You toast him, and he looks away with a snort. He totally treats you like a bad influence, huh? You shrug internally and finish your drink. Not like he's wrong.

Momoi appears as Kise's team leaves. She watches them go with raised eyebrows. She sits down next to you neatly, the picture of grace.

"That took longer than I thought, Hana-chan," she says.

"We had a lot to talk about. Where're Kuroko and Kagami?" You glance around, even though it's impossible for you to miss them.

Momoi sighs. "Dai-chan showed up and dragged them off to play. Boys sure are dumb Hana-chan."

You smile a bit. "I've noticed."

You both sit in silence for a bit. You stare at the wall without seeing it, not really thinking; just... drifting. You feel like a drained battery, a little light in your head blinking on and off. Warning: low power.

A hand on your arm. You shake your head and glance at Momoi. She presses against your side.

She bites her lips. "Hana-chan, it's none of my business, but...are you okay?"

You take a deep breath, and all your energy drains with the exhale. You go boneless. Lean forward and place your head on her shoulder, an echo of Kise an hour ago. She smells like lemon and something sweet, unique to her. She squeaks.

"I'm tired," You say. "Can I borrow you for a bit?"

Her heart kicks like a drum through your head. You close your eyes and listen. Finally, her heart settles into something steady and sure. She puts her hands on the back of your neck, and you let her.

Momoi is safe, the way Kise is safe. It's something you never managed to find with Akashi, no matter how much you liked him.

"Of course, Hana-chan," She says.

That's how you end up with your head on her lap. It's comfortable, even if the bench isn't exactly big enough for both of you. Your feet drape over the edges.

Momoi's comfortable. Soft and sweet-smelling. Her hands' card through your hair, nails trailing against the skin in a way that sent soft waves through your skull. Is she measuring your head for her creepy information system? Probably.

Your eyes feel heavy. You think about Kise - Ryouta - and the hurt on his face. Being distant feels like a kindness; the one thing your selfish heart allowed.

Only now you understand: It's too late.

You already matter. You're stuck. Ryouta, Aomine, Midorima, Murasakibara, Akashi, Kuroko, and Nijimura already care. Momoi worried when you disappeared, even if she never blamed you. She hums under her breath.

"Momoi," you say. Like a question. Like a plea.

She smiles down at you, and her face is like the moon to Kise's sun. A softer, more gentle beauty. "Hana-chan?"

"Satsuki," You say.

You don't have the words to ask. You don't know what you're asking for in the first place. Only that you want to stay like this for a thousand years, that you want to keep this day, hard and messy as it was, in your pocket like a hand-warmer for the winters of your mind.

The dark will shroud your mind again. It always does.

But not here. Not now.

(You missed Ryouta. You missed Momoi.)

Her hand pauses. Her smile grows like a flower blooming in fast-forward. She touches your cheek with a gentle hand, and you know that whatever you asked for, she'd give it without hesitation.

"Hana-chan." She says softly.

Your entire body relaxes, and you close your eyes.

After a moment, you feel her touch your hair again, and start humming under her breath.

It's a sweet song.

* * *

 **I rewrote this like five times I am done**

 **tell me what you liked :)**


	31. XXXI

**trigger warning for suicidal thoughts**

* * *

When Aomine brings your boys back, his blinks at you and Momoi chilling on the bench. You blink back, lazy.

Aomine _tsks_ and rubs his hands through your hair, leaves in a terrible mess. "Getting chummy, Hana?"

Kuroko gives you a look, and you give him a deadpan stare as you sit up. Kagami looks vaguely annoyed.

"Dai-chan!" Momoi swats Aomine. "Be nice. Hana-chan, I'll see you later okay?"

You wave. "Later, Satsuki."

Momoi flushes a little. "Y-yes!"

Aomine's eyebrows go up. "Damn, Satsuki you move fast - _ow_!"

"Shut up!" Momoi – Satsuki – hisses, and pushes him down the hallway forcefully. "Or I'll tell your mom _exactly_ what happened at your tenth birthday party."

"You weren't even _there_ for that one, how the hell do you know about it, you crazy witch –"

They fade out of earshot. You turn to find both Kuroko and Kagami staring at you. "What?"

"I thought calling people by their first names was some big thing in Japan?" Kagami sounds disgruntled. "My dad never shut up about it."

"It is," Kuroko says. He maintains eye contact with you. "Normally reserved for close friends, or lovers when used without any honorifics. One must obtain permission if one wants to be polite."

You fold your hands behind your head and look up at the ceiling. A classic 'I don't know what you're talking about' pose.

Kagami groans. "Man, all this etiquette shit is a drag. Hana, call me by my first name. You have permission or whatever. You too, Kuroko."

"Kagami-kun is so forward," Kuroko says into the beat of silence that follows.

Kagami flushes. "Not like that, you asshole!" Judgmental silence. Kagami groans. "Man, I'm too American for this shit. Look, we're friends right?" That's news to you. "I'm telling you, it's like walking around an ultra-formal party all the time. It's _weird_. In America, we call everybody by first name!"

You study Kagami.

He glares back at you, the tips of his ears red. "What?"

"I don't know your first name," You say.

Oh, look — a judgmental silence of your own. You plug your ears just before Kagami explodes.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS? I INTRODUCED MYSELF AT OUR FIRST PRACTICE –"

Man, Kagami has a good set of lungs on him.

"Hana-san rarely forgets anything," Kuroko says later, in the car, under his breath. Kagami is sulking in the opposite seat, arms folded.

You let your lips curl up a bit. "That's true."

"Ah. Hana-san's smile is evil."

"No idea what you're talking about." You say. Like Kuroko has any room to talk. He's way worse than you are.

Kagami always has funny reactions.

Or rather, Taiga does.

* * *

Weeks pass in a blur. Aida is excellent as her word, and you don't have to play any tournament games. It's nostalgic to sit on the sidelines, judge the player's weaknesses and strengths; something you used to do at Teikou when you attended first Ryouta's then Akashi's pushes Taiga instead, never gives him a break.

Taiga thrives under her guidance. Still not good as you, or Aomine, but getting there. His progress scares Seirin's opponents. You can see familiar fear in their eyes as Taiga's playstyle evolves mid-game, when he pushes himself further and further in the pursuit of victory.

It's familiar. Everyone looks at you with that sort of fear.

The team is happier with Taiga as the ace, rather than you. It's hard to be the heart of anything when you lack your own.

"Taiga is getting better." You say, watching the team push themselves under Aida's watchful eye.

Kuroko lies on the ground, face mashed into the gymnasium floor and drenched in sweat. His arms tremble. A basketball rolls forlornly by his side. Aida put you in charge of keeping him awake because you already finished your practice for the day and barely broke a sweat. Everyone else is busy and used to both of you by now – you don't even get evil looks anymore. You're ignored.

"I mean," You flip the basketball up with your foot, into a spin on one finger. You nudge Kuroko with your foot; make sure he's not dead. "Not as good as me, of course. That's a bit of a reach for anyone. Still. Pretty good."

Kuroko groans. It sounds vaguely insulting. Yeah, he's fine.

You crouch down next to him, the ball still spinning around on your fingers. "Don't know if it's enough."

Kuroko turns his head just enough to catch your eye. He doesn't say anything, but you're getting better at reading him. He's worried too.

Your next game is with Yosen.

Murasakibara, for all his attitude, is no joke. Aomine could beat him, but that was Aomine. Even Akashi had trouble when Murasakibara was serious.

Given a chance to crush you – well. He might get serious. It might be the one time having you on the team won't help.

You might get to see Murasakibara going all out for once. That might be fun – for you, at least. The team is going to get steamrolled.

"Taiga isn't on Murasakibara's level." You say.

"Hana-san should do something about it, then," Kuroko says.

You make a face. "I knew you were going to say that."

You stand and brush imaginary dirt off your uniform. One hand in your pocket, you consider the basketball. Throw it up in the air a few times, catch it. Test the weight.

Then you wind up and hurl it at the back of Taiga's head.

He drops to his knees, lets the ball sail harmlessly over his head. It hits the wall with a loud crack and rebounds hard. Taiga lets out a yelp and catches it inches in front of his face.

You tilt your head. His reflexes are good, you guess, but not quite good enough. If you threw that at full strength, he wouldn't be able to catch it — something to work on.

"That is not what I meant, Hana-san," Kuroko says, voice dry.

You shrug. "I know."

Taiga whirls around and glares at you. "Hana, what the hell! That almost hit me!"

"Hana?" Aida asks.

"I'm gonna borrow him for the next two weeks." You tilt your head towards Taiga.

Aida hums, understanding sparks in her eyes. "Special training?" She glances you over with a raised brow. "Will you be fine?"

You snort. Taiga's not at the level where it takes an effort to deal with him.

Taiga eyes you, wary. "What's going on?"

You have two weeks. Taiga is the type of person who improves in the middle of a challenge, but his progress is too slow. The better the quality of his opponents, the more he grows.

You are the highest quality person you know - or at least one of them. Aomine and Akashi aren't options right now. You take your hands out of your pockets, adjust your wristband. "We're gonna play some one on one. Get one point from me and I'll consider you ready."

"I'm not gonna like this, am I?" Despite that, a fierce smile spreads over Taiga's face.

Such a basketball idiot.

You smile. "Probably not."

* * *

Even with Taiga to distract you during the week, dinner with your parents looms over your head. Your stomach twists in on itself further and further with every day that passes, like a corkscrew.

"You don't look well," Karou says quietly. The open closet half lights the bedroom. She sits on the bed, but a restless well of energy moves your feet. You pace around the room, try not to feel like a lion in a cage. Even Nigou senses your mood. He's quiet, head on his paws, watching you move.

"Where's Kasumi-nee?" You ask.

"Here, Hana-chan!" Kasumi calls from the master closet. You can hear clothes rustling. "Are you sure you want to do this alone? I haven't seen Auntie in ages."

"It's a family meeting." The Kise's might be close to your family, but you know your parents want this to be just the three of you.

After a long moment, Karou sighs. "If you need anything, anything at all, call Nijimura-kun or me. We'll come to get you, okay?"

Nijimura works for your father. He can't be on your side, no matter what you do for him.

Would Karou offer if you didn't pay for her company?

You don't know.

You think she might offer for anyone because Karou is kind. You're not special.

Kasumi comes back out of the closet, looking model perfect as always even with her hair in a messy bun and no makeup. It's the Kise genes at work. Nori, Ryouta's other sister is the same way and all she cares about is law. Kasumi sits down next to Karou on your bed - you watch the way she leans into Karou's side the slightest bit. They don't look at each other. Karou doesn't move away. You see the way their fingers brush, and resignation wells up inside you. They're subtle, but... can't say you didn't see it coming. Your arrangement with Karou won't last much longer.

Your stomach twists again, but you can't blame either of them. Between you and Kasumi, you'd pick Kasumi too.

"Try these on, Hana," Kasumi says with a sunny smile.

You take the clothes and move to the bathroom, hear the two of them speak in low tones behind you. You shut the door behind you and lean against it for a second.

It wasn't like you loved Karou. It felt like losing something - not _necessary_ , but useful.

You look up, meet your own eyes in the mirror. Dark, unfamiliar. Still a moment of disconnect - that girl isn't you. She can't be.

 _Let's get this over with_ , the girl in the mirror mouths.

Lets, you think.

* * *

Your father's new restaurant is understated in a way that screams money. It's all plush cream carpets and gleaming dark wood - gold and red everywhere, waiters and waitresses in clothes crisp as a thousand yen bill. They bow as you pass in a wave, direct you to a private room on the highest level.

Of course.

You take the elevator and watch the street below fade through the glass window on the side. Tokyo is nothing but pinpricks of light underneath your feet. Breath deep. Ignore the part of you that reaches out wistfully. You place your hand against the glass. It looks paper thin against the night sky, the light of the buildings shining through.

The elevator doors open with a quiet chime behind you. You turn back from the glass and leave the drop behind you.

Your parents sit at a table in the middle of the room, heads bent together as if no one else exists. You take a deep breath, feel your lungs, feel your heart. Feel yourself existing as a person.

Your mother looks up first. Her face lights up from the inside until it's like looking into the sun. Love shines out of her. She pushes back from the table and stands. She's tall for a Japanese woman, five nine in her wicked looking black heels. Kimiko Ryukawa looks like you in twenty years. Her hair is the same light absorbing black as yours. She's barely thirty. The severe look of her face melts like ice in the sun when she sees you.

You have to look away.

Yuya is easier. His suit costs more than most people make in a week. He stands up as well and steadies your mother with one careful hand. The man looks at his wife like she set the stars in the sky. His eyes flicker over you, sharp as the edge of a blade. You wonder what he sees, behind the smile. There are times you wonder if he only loves you because Kimiko does.

You don't know if the thought is comforting or suffocating.

Your mother meets you halfway and pulls you into a hug. "Hana, it's been far too long. How is your school going?"

She smells like mint leaves and chamomile. Her arms are warm, secure.

It's all you can do not to flinch.

You stand stiffly and let her hug you. It's not her fault you remember the endless prison of her stomach, the warm red light filtering through her skin. It's not her fault she pulled you from peace before you could forget you were ready in the first place.

It's not her fault.

It's _not_ her fault.

You can feel the way her arms tighten around your like iron bands. She lets you go after far too long. Her smile is less luminous, less bright. Yuya looks down at his hands.

(Your chest compresses.

You wish you loved her. Everything about this situation is cruel, and you most of all.)

She holds you out at arm's length and studies you from top to bottom. Her eyes are sharp. It's like being raked over a fire, but colder. Do your opponents feel the same way when you look at them?

"You're too skinny," she said. "What are they feeding you at that school of yours? Come, sit. Try the steak."

You try. You try so hard. You go, you sit, you try the steak. You speak, carry the conversation. There are less awkward pauses than usual.

It's hard in a way few things are for you. It's made harder by the way your parents are acting. Yuya fusses over Kimiko far more than usual, which is impressive to watch. She doesn't rebuff his antics like usual but calmly accepts them like a queen given her due, a strange tolerance on her face.

The main course comes out, and your mother wrinkles her nose just a bit and presses a hand to her abdomen- no. A bit higher.

...There's no wine at the table.

You understand what's going on a few seconds before your mother opens' her mouth.

"I'm pregnant," Kimiko says - and you find yourself unsurprised. She g _lows._ The chandeliers glitter like cut glass.

Your father leans closer to her with something achingly soft in his eyes. He is so in love, and she's so happy it fills up the room to the top.

It leaves no room for you.

This is the world they wanted. The two of them were always meant to be parents.

You think back phone calls; the way they came less often. The truth slots into place like a knife into your heart. Neatly. Nearly bloodless.

 _Oh. They gave up._

Sometime in the last couple of months, they gave up on you. Decided to try for a child not so strange, not made of sharp edges.

"Congratulations." You say. Take a bite of your thousand dollar food. Taste nothing.

Your mother smiles, soft. No worry behind her dark eyes, the same eyes you have — her gift to you.

Fifteen years.

You think that's long enough for a doomed end. "How far along?" You ask because that's what people ask, not out of any interest. You never liked kids, and being one again has put you off them entirely. What are you supposed to do with this information, this replacement child? Love is out of reach.

"Four months," Kimiko says. "We wanted to be sure before telling you. You're almost sixteen, so we decided it was about time for a new child."

The dinner drags on for what feels like hours. They speak. They get lost in each other, in their little happy bubble. They rarely look at you. You sit, and you eat. It feels like you're hovering over your body. You watch yourself pick a desert. Watch yourself smile like an empty doll at your parent's happiness.

The night ends.

You let your mother hug you, let your father kiss your cheek. They smile at you. Tell you to call more.

The world is spinning. Your mind is spinning, thoughts chasing each other down, and you know -

Your parents will finally have what they always wanted out of a child, and you're - free. Yuya loves you because Kimiko does, and she no longer loves you neither will he.

Relief washes over you - or maybe it's nausea. You can't tell.

You live because you owe them for the pain you've caused. No parent wants to bury their child, and they were good people. They tried to love you, for fifteen years. It wasn't their fault their love felt like a chain around your neck.

They'll have a new child. Kise has his team and the miracles. Nijimura has a steady job. Even Karou would be taken care of, Kasumi would make sure of it.

You have no reason to stay your hand.

You could do it right now. The human body is fragile. Your fingers brush over the steak knife.

A thought stills your hand.

What if they're like you?

You can't move from your place at the doorway. Breath stills in your lungs. Your parents say goodbye, and you don't remember what you said back.

What if you're weren't alone anymore? What if you _were_?

Which would be worse?

You steal a bottle of wine on the way out. They'll assume your father took it and charge it to him.

You need to not think anymore.

* * *

It's almost nostalgic to wander the streets of Tokyo with dusk setting in, all neon and the smell of too many people in too small a place. The wine is dark and sweet and the moon is a smudge in the sky.

You walk, and you drink, and you drink, and you walk. A buzz starts up in the back of your head. Then it spreads down your body. You blink and take out your phone.

 _Girlfriend: Hana-chan how did it go_

 _Girlfriend: Hana-chan? It's getting pretty late, how are you doing._

 _Girlfriend: Hana-chan I'm starting to get worried_

 _Kise#2: Hana you better answer, you're scaring the both of us, if you don't I"m going to go into your room and snoop through your stuff! :(_

You sigh.

 _You: im fine. staying overnight._

You send the text and don't wait for a reply. You shut your phone off and put it in your pockets. You wander until the sky is dark, edging into black. If there are stars, you can't see them through the light pollution of Tokyo.

Your stomach turns over. Bile rises in your throat. You press your hand into your broken wrist, but there's no pain to bring you back down. You can't shut down your thoughts; you can't stop yourself from hearing the words over and over again.

 _"You're going to be a big sister!"_

 _Kimiko and Yuya smiling._

You press your hands to your eyes hard enough to see stars. It's not enough. The black wells up from your soul, invading the rest of your body like a disease, taints everything it touches. It stains you. It hits the bubble of alcohol in your stomach, and you curl up around the nausea of it.

You were an elder sibling once, you think; it's faint, barely an echo of an echo. You can't remember their names, their faces, why they were important. You can't remember why you should care.

The black climbs up your throat, reaches for your heart. Your hands fall away with your input. Your face blanks and you think about heights and steak knives and being alone.

You know you're not in a good frame of mind.

You take your phone out of your pocket and turn it around in your hands. The cold glass and plastic feel muffled against your fingers. Maybe it's the wine talking. Maybe its the way your breath shakes. Maybe you want to hear the voice of someone who cares. You turn the phone on again, pick a number out of the contacts. Call.

It rings once, twice, three times. It rings so long you almost give up. Settle into your life - just sitting in the park, drinking till the bottle is dry.

 _Click_.

"Dai-chan, this better be important! Do you have any idea what _time_ it is? Too late is what it is! I told you not to call me on a school night -"

You look down at the bottle in your hand, then at the time on your phone. It's nearly four in the morning. The sky is starting to pink. "Satsuki."

Sielce - then a crash. You pull back the phone from your ears with a wince. It sounded like something falling to the ground like Satsuki dropped her phone.

"Hana-chan!" Satuski whispered. "Sorry! Sorry, I thought it was Dai-chan being annoying again. I wasn't - um. I'm not mad at you."

You lean back against the bench and close your eyes. "I wasn't paying attention. I'll let you get back to sleep."

"No, no. That's fine!" Satsuki said. "I don't mind. Stay on, please."

A beat passes. You listen to Satuski breath on the other side of the line and feel something go loose in your shoulders. Some tension you didn't know you carried fades with the sound of another persons' breath. Satsuki speaks, and you listen without registering anything but the cadence of her voice.

You're not alone, in the dark.

"-Hana-chan? Hana-chan? Are you still on?" Momoi asks.

You come back to yourself. "I'm still here."

And so you are.

Momoi lets out an audible sigh of relief. "You weren't answering."

You turn the bottle of wine in your hands. It's three fourths empty. Your head swims. "I might be a little drunk."

A pause. "What happened, Hana-chan? Where are you? I can get my mom to pick you up." Momoi said. "Or I can come to get you."

You hear the rustle of clothes on the other side of the line. "I'm coming to pick you up right now. Where are you?"

"My mom is pregnant," You say. The moon is barely a smudge in the sky. "I'm going to be an older sister."

The movement stops. "Congratulations, Hana-chan. Are you excited about it?" Satuski says at last.

Are you excited about it?

You don't know if you can love the child. That might have been washed out of you by your death just like everything else.

Just like every other time you reach for words to describe your relationship with your parents, you come up blank. It's like trying to untangle barbed wire with your bare hands. Someone will end up bleeding; it's just a matter of who.

You were born broken. Maybe this kid won't be.

"They'll be amazing parents," You say.

"Hana-chan," Momoi's voice was soft. "Are you all right?"

You rub your face. "No. Not really."

"What can I do to help?"

You don't want advice - you want someone to listen.

You hesitate. "Just... stay on the line?"

"Okay," Momoi says. "Okay.

You close your eyes and listen to her quiet breathing. Overhead, the moon. Eventually, she speaks about her time at school, the dumb stuff Aomine and the basketball team get up too, and her other friends; words flow out of her like a river that won't run dry.

She doesn't expect you to respond, so you don't. The whole world narrows down to you and Momoi, connected by the thin string of her voice. That same string gives you a foothold in the dark.

Her concern feels like warm water poured over your head. Your shoulders relax down a fraction of an inch and you close your eyes. You don't want to hurt Momoi. You don't want her to see you like this. Tired. Confused. You're at your worst when you can't pretend. When you don't want to _be,_ when you don't want to care, to think. You wish you could stop.

"Hana-chan?" Satsuki asks. "Are you listening?"

You can't, you realize.

That's not the world you live in. Things have changed. You don't get to stop being a person when you now, no matter how tired you get. Not now, when there's a girl on the other side of the phone.

"I'm listening," you say. You don't recognize your voice.

It ends with the first light of the sun. The world seeps back into your senses like a river gradually rising, submerging you. The air smells heavy with rain. Somewhere across the park, out of sight, a baby cries.

"Sorry, Hana-chan. I have to go, okay? I have morning practice," Momoi says. "And Dai-chan won't drag himself there. Will you be... okay?"

You glance down at the bottle in your hand, the peeling label.

"Yeah," You say. "I'm better now."

Then, softly. "Thanks."

You can feel Momoi's smile through the phone. "That's alright Hana-chan. We're friends. I'll be at the stadium to cheer you on, all right?"

A warmth spreads through your chest. "Yeah. See you there."

A click.

You stare down at the phone. The warmth spreads down your arms, up your nekc until it reaches your face. A quick check of your reflection confirms it.

You're blushing.

"Fuck," Your reflection says.

* * *

 **hi! it's been a while. I started playing guitar and it kinda messed up my fingers big time lol. I'm finally** **getting callouses now tho so that's solved it**

 **also:** **THE PENNY FINALLY DROPS**

 ***kuroko voice* hana you useless bisexual**


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